


The Geometry at Rhodes

by mychakk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1930s, Auntie Jane (Marple) guides him, Awesome Molly, Barely adults, F/M, Greece, He finds romace too, Lieutenant Donlevy is supposed to be based on Tom, Murder, Rhodes Island, Romance, Sherlock finds his calling, Sherlock has feelings and isn't afriad of them yet, Sherlock's on his summer break from uni, Slow Burn, Uni!lock (kinda), case-fic, mentions of infidelity and divorce, uni!lock romance (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychakk/pseuds/mychakk
Summary: Triangles, squares, two dots connected by a straight line. Many of those could have been found on Rhodes Island one holiday season in the 1930s. It was then, after all, when Sherlock Holmes, after starting his summer break at Uni, was roped by his formidable mother to take his fragile Godmother on a holiday at the Greece Archipelago. Unable to refuse both his Mother and Auntie Jane, he agreed, unaware that this adventure would set him onto his lifelong professional carrier and into the arms of the most extraordinary young woman he’s ever met. Sherlolly. Historical!lock. Kinda uni!lock but not really.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Writingwife83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/gifts).



> Hi!
> 
> So this prompt ran away from me into a surprising direction… I hope you don’t mind, **Writingwife83** a blooming romance and a case!fic situated in 1930s on… Rhodes Island, as a set up for the prompt-fill? I promise the exact prompt will be filled in the last chapter. 
> 
> The story is based on Tringle at Rhodes from Agatha Christie’s Poirot but with… Jane Marple instead as Sherlock’s Godmother. Sorry, but no Poirot here (sadly, I think the two eccentric detectives in one close quarters won’t mix well, despite my big love for the Uncle Hercules au ;) ). 
> 
> Please note, I'm not a native English speaker and this has not been beta-read. So excuse all the grammar and spelling mistakes, I did my best with editing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter One

xxx

“But mother!” A whine resounded around the sitting room.

“You heard me young man.” The woman in question replied unperturbed. “After your escapades at the university, I don’t want to hear anything more from you.” She added throwing her younger son a pointed look.

Sherlock glowered as Mycroft sniggered at him. This was so unfair!

“But mother-“ He tried once more but was swiftly interrupted.

“Aunt Jane has been feeling rather unwell in our rainy and damp climate.” She told him briskly. “The doctor has prescribed her some sunny time. It will do wonders for her health.” She explained once more. “Also, I’ve known for a while your Godmother wanted to see the Greece Islands even if she hardly ever tries to leave her little village anymore. It will be a nice surprise for her. In her fragile state she _needs_ an assistance.” She gave him a pointed look as she concluded. “For all the time she babysat you, miscreant, during your childhood, it’s the _least_ we, and you especially, can do.”

Sherlock felt he was losing the battle and losing it fast. “But what about Reymont? Why can’t _he_ go with her? Since he’s the _actual_ family of hers.” He honestly whined this time.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes!” His mother shot him an angry glare. “Jane Marple has been a dear friend of the family, particularly to your Grandmother and later to me, and she _is_ considered _family_ as a matter of fact! And you well know it!” She added for a good measure.

Sherlock has the grace to look properly chastised. He _did_ like his Godmother, he really did, but he _really_ didn’t want to go. “Well, Reymont _is_ her only blood relative.” He added stubbornly but without any aplomb.

Miriam Holmes sighed at her younger son. “Your cousin Reymont is currently writing his next novel. We can’t sent him in the middle of his work.” She explained impatiently and pointed at him. “You on the other hand, young man, have just gained tons of free time.”

“Only about three months.” Sherlock scowled.

Miriam Holmes shot him a furious glare.

Sherlock slumped in his chair. Great. Just great, he’s just finished his latest year at the university and already his family roped him into a boring obligation.

“Now, William, pack your bags, you’re leaving tomorrow.” His mother finished in a voice signalling the end of the discussion.

“Tomorrow!” Sherlock gasped.

Miriam Holmes shot him a final glare. “Tomorrow.” She nodded firmly.

Sherlock huffed and turned around. As much as he hated to admit it he knew he had lost this argument. And lost spectacularly.

To Greece Archipelago he goes, then. At least Auntie Jane was never _boring_.

xxx

So far the holidays were as tedious as Sherlock imagined them to be. Although, he _did_ enjoy the occasional historical and archaeological site of the Rhodes Island that they were staying at. The change of the scenery also turned out to be a surprisingly soothing adjustment for his overworking and ever so easily bored brain. To battle off the boredom he focused on learning all the new languages and dialects he had not yet mastered, as well as looking at various interesting new flora and fauna on this unknown to him yet island. Some properties of those he had already known but other- well, he definitely looked forward to finding all their usefulness for his chemistry and science studies.

Auntie Jane seemed to enjoy herself, too. For that Sherlock was glad. Eve though she did require some physical help occasionally, she wasn’t an overbearing presence at all, neither demanding his attention nor expecting being entertained by him all the time. On the contrary, she seemed to amuse herself with her endless knitting and humming, some garden walks and occasional people watching. Not that his Auntie was a boring simpleton. Oh, _no_. Sherlock had known from his early years that his Godmother was one interesting woman. While she preferred to listen instead of partaking in any discussions, whenever she made an input it was often a pointed, insightful one. She could also make some well veiled jabs at various people present, a feat Sherlock greatly admired and enjoyed, providing it wasn’t aimed at him that is.

So far not bad.

Sherlock sighed to himself as he turned into a shadowed, deserted alley near the main road of their small Mediterranean town. He was just returning from his excursion on the local flora when he heard a strangled gasp and fast approaching footsteps coning from the narrow passage to his right. He turned around ready to investigate only to catch a stumbling, _very_ young lady.

She gasped against him then blushed straightening her posture.

“Thank you.” She demurred giving him a shy smile. “Mr. Holmes, isn’t it?” She asked him breathlessly. “It’s a pleasure to see you.” She added with a hurried glance behind her.

“Miss?” Sherlock asked her a little mystified.

“Oh, sorry, of course.” She turned back to him with wide, big, brown eyes, then smiled exchanging her hand. “Hooper. Molly Hooper.” She shook his hand firmly. “I saw you in the hotel before, you had your microscope lens and-“

She turned anxiously once more as another set of footsteps neared them from the same passage she had just came from.

She looped her arm through his a little desperately and looked up at him pleadingly. “Can I keep you company?” She tried to sound nonchalant be he could detect the plea in her voice.

Sherlock paused taken aback a little. Normally he would snatch his arm back and made a disparaging retort but something about this young, petite lady stopped him. The footsteps were almost upon them and the slightly panicked look on her face intensified.

“Yes, it will be a pleasure.” He found himself saying.

The young lady sagged in relief and, more relaxed, started a stroll down the alley.

“Are you in some danger?” Sherlock couldn’t help asking as he looked at the small, unsuspecting young woman walking beside him. She looked way younger than his twenty years.

The young lady shook her head and confessed in a low voice. “It goes against my instincts, being so forward, but the man _does not_ give up.” She finished exasperated and blushed prettily. “And with the hotel being _so empty_ , there's a great danger of me getting stuck with unwanted company for the rest of the holiday.” She looked at him meaningfully.

Just in this very moment another young man stumbled from the passage. He looked around and, seeing them to the side, he lifted up his fedora hat hopefully but immediately faltered noticing them walking arm in arm. Sherlock tasked him up and down with his eyes. It was another patron of the Palace Hotel, where all the English people here stayed. Sherlock recognised him. Tall, lanky with curly hair, he was probably quite a few years older than Sherlock himself. And apparently _besotted_.

“Ah, the jolly Lieutenant Tom Donlevy.” He commented. “Always in a hurry, isn't he?”

“For the fishing, he tells me.” Miss Hooper replied.

“I see.” Sherlock nodded still feeling a little out of sorts by this unexpected turn of events.

They reached the main road.

“Thank you.” Miss Hooper said a little shyly all of a sudden.

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise. Her arm felt surprisingly comfortable around his. Curious.

“I saw you with microscope lenses the other day.” Miss Hooper started as they turned toward their hotel. “Are you a man of sciences admiring the local flora, Mr. Holmes?” She shot him an interested glance. “Did you find something worth seeing under one?”

Sherlock looked down at her more attentive now. “You are familiar with microscopes, Miss Hooper?”

She looked straight ahead with her head raised high. “I plan on studying at the university in the fall.” She proclaimed confidently.

Sherlock felt his lips lift up a little. “Admirable.” He commented and, basing it on her previous question, he added. “Sciences?”

“Medicine.” She shot him a side glance.

 _Interesting_. “Oh, general physician?” He inquired, it would fit with her bubbly character, he assumed.

“Actually, I hope to specialize in pathology.” She deadpanned.

Sherlock stopped midstep making Miss Hopper stumble. She looked up at him challengingly.

“Something wrong?” She asked pointedly.

Sherlock gathered his wit. “No, not at all.” He gave her a genuine smile feeling more than intrigued for the very first time in his life. “Why don’t we sit down for some tea at the hotel’s patio and you can tell me all about your plans for studies and choice of this speciality?”

All of a sudden she blushed becomingly under his glance and looked down.

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile at her even more so.

xxx

Sherlock and Miss Hooper made their way by the harbour where the ferry that regularly brought all the tourists and some other boats were being docked. Sherlock always had a fancy with boats and sailing and often as a wee lad dreamed of being a pirate. During his stroll with Miss Hooper he learned that she had come here to get away from England after her father passed away this spring. Her older cousin and closest relative, Janine Hawkins, insisted on taking her somewhere hot and sunny, claiming it will sooth her nerves and help her relax. Sherlock thought privately his unexpected (although more and more wanted) companion did not seem to be the type needing any special calming and relaxing for he could hardly image her to be the hysterical type. He also noted mentally he had seen the aftermentioned cousin in question once or twice in the hotel lobby.

As they walked past the ferry that had just arrived, a commotion caught their attention.

“We've spent all day at sea and my wife's exhausted, so let's get to the hotel as fast as possible with our luggage intact.” A male voice proclaimed officiously near the luggage cart. “Make sure it's secure and stay close behind the other car.” The voice belonged to a tall, dark haired man in his mid-thirties. He helped a pretty, dark haired and quite tanned woman get into the nearest car, one Sherlock recognised as being issued by The Palace Hotel. Ah, new arrivals then.

Another man, shorter one with light, strawberry red hair jogged up to the first one. “Excuse me, but aren't these the cars from the Palace Hotel?” He asked.

The taller, dark haired man gave him an impatient glance as he readied to get inside the car himself. “Yes. Well?”

“Well, we're staying there, too, you know.” The other man said with a friendly approach.

“Well, you'll have to wait for them to come back.” And with that, the taller man got into the car. “The hotel, please, driver.” He said quickly as he closed the door right in the fair-haired man’s face. “And try not to hit anything.” Could be heard from the opened windows as the car started.

The shorter man watched the car leave the harbour with a slightly disbelieving look on his face then looked to his female companion standing to the side. She just shrugged.

Sherlock shared a look with Miss Hooper.

“Good heavens,” Miss Hooper said. “I do believe that has just been Marlene Carmichael. Hmm, Magnussen it was, I think; Janine mentioned.” She added. “I shouldn't think this place was quite her style …a bit quiet for her from what I gather.”

Sherlock looked at the retreating car.

“She looked rather marvellous, didn't she?” Miss Hooper asked him wistfully.

"Mm.” He replied noncommittally. “She has married again?” He looked down at his companion.

Miss Hooper nodded in affirmation. “Number four, I think.”

Sherlock blinked in surprise. “Really?” The woman in question couldn’t be _that_ much older than them. Or could she?

“The husband number four looks a bit of a gorilla, doesn't he?” Miss Hooper giggled then her eyes widened in mortification.

Sherlock couldn’t help grinning back at her. “An animal attraction, would you think, Miss Hooper?” he teased back.

Miss Hooper blushed but grinned back in return. "Well...” She allowed.

Sherlock squeezed the arm still looped through his as he urged them to move on. “Well, things are certainly looking up.” He said shooting her another amused glance.

Miss Hooper just blushed more.

xxx

Sherlock and Miss Hooper walked together to the hotel at a leisure pace. There were some nice panoramic shortcuts the car from the hotel would not be able to take and so they enjoyed the new views ...and their unexpected company.

During their walk Sherlock learned a little more about his companion. As of this spring, she was now both an adult and an orphan with a comfortable income thanks to the inheritance her late father left her. Her cousin, Janine Hawkins, was a few years older and decided Miss Hooper should look for a husband when they return home. Miss Hooper clearly preferred starting to her studies, instead, not that Sherlock could really blame her.

On their way to the hotel Miss Hooper has pointed out some of the interesting plants they passed and recited the medical properties of them. Her father had been a botanist and Miss Hooper had often found herself helping him in his greenhouses. She quite liked learning about the properties of the plants, but even more so _loved_ hearing how they affected human bodies. It was this that convinced her to go for medicine and particularly for pathology. Her father had obviously approved of his only daughter’s choices and gladly prepared to finance her studies. Now Miss Hooper was even more determined to follow her dream, in the memory of her late father. If only she could outmanoeuvre her meddlesome cousin!

Normally a reluctant social companion, Sherlock unexpectedly found himself quite at ease walking and chatting with this cheery, petite, young woman.

“Hello!” A voice called as they reached the main gateway to the Palace Hotel.

Miss Hooper’s mood significantly darkened. Nevertheless, she replied to the man coming their way. “Hello.”

“Lieutenant Donlevy.” Sherlock nodded curtly, even more disinclined for additional social interactions than his pleasant companion was.

“Been looking all over the place for you, little lady.” The other man called looking pointedly at Miss Hooper.

Sherlock bristled but before he could say anything, Miss Hooper straightened her posture gracefully.

“Not out fishing today, Lieutenant?” She asked hauntingly.

Lieutenant Donlevy waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, earlier. Didn't have much luck.” He shrugged, his short, curly hair bouncing.

Sherlock’s insides coiled. There was something off about this man, but Sherlock couldn’t put his finger on it yet. “Perhaps, Lieutenant Donlevy, you were fishing too close to the shore.” He replied with a fake smile. “I noticed you by the harbour.”

Lieutenant Donlevy swayed lightly on the soles of his feet putting his hands in his pockets. “I expect you're right.” He agreed. “Too much damn dynamiting going on.”

“Dynamiting?” Miss Hooper inquired shocked.

Lieutenant Donlevy looked back at her with an encouraging smile. “The fishermen drop dynamite around here.” He explained. “Damned lazy beggars.” He added disdainfully then followed quickly. “The fish, not being fools, keep out at sea.” He laughed forcefully.

“There you are!” Another voice called them. A tall, dark-haired and more filled-out woman walked briskly towards them. She shot Lieutenant Donlevy an unimpressed glance and headed straight for Miss Hooper. “I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you, Molly.”

“Oh!” Miss Hooper released Sherlock’s arm and turned toward him. “Miss Janine Hawkins, Mr. Holmes.” She introduced.

“How do you do.” Sherlock nodded his head at the new arrival. It would do him no good disregarding the social etiquette with Miss Hooper present.

Lieutenant Donlevy made an inconsequential excuse and left them.

“How do you do.” Miss Hawkins nodded and turned to her younger cousin. “Come! I need your help. _And_ we need to prepare for the dinner and drinks afterwards.” She looped her arm through Miss Hooper’s. “New guests has just arrived!” She added. “You won’t believe who it is!”

Miss Hooper turned toward Sherlock with a hopeful look. “I’ll see you in the evening?”

Sherlock smiled involuntarily. “Of course.” He replied and watched as the two women left.

“Been making new friends, I see.” Came a familiar voice from behind him.

“Auntie Jane!” He turned toward his Godmother.

Auntie Jane gave him a knowing look with a smile. “I won’t ask if you have enjoyed your walk to the town.”

“Really.” He replied haughtily but couldn’t stop the twitching of his lips as he noticed the twinkling in his Godmother’s eyes.

“Now, young man, you have promised me a stroll around the gardens this afternoon.” She said mock-sternly.

Sherlock gave her his arm. “I’m sorry for being late, I got detained saving a girl.”

“A knight in a white, linen suit.” She teased back. “Was it Lieutenant Donlevy who was the big bad wolf?” She asked knowingly.

Sherlock still marvelled at the uncanny ability of his Godmother to see everything that was going around her.

“How did you know?” He asked looking back at her.

“You were with Miss Hooper, were you not?” She replied.

He nodded and looked ahead of them unwilling to acknowledge the sudden flush creeping around his neck.

“Just like old Mark.” Auntie Jane nodded knowingly.

“Who?” Sherlock looked back at her.

“He’s from my village.” Auntie Jane replied.

“Ah.”

She patted his arm. “Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Thank Lord.” Sherlock teased back and led his Godmother to the gardens.

xxx

As the dusk fell Sherlock prepared himself for the evening meal. Standing in his room, he adjusted his evening suit and sighing resigned himself to do his bowtie. That was one of the things he hated about this holiday. He abhorred the evening attire but there was nothing else to do but to keep a stiff upper lip and wear the damn thing as was expected. He did promise Miss Hooper she would see him during the drinks and he _was_ here to accompany Auntie Jane on the various endeavours, so-

“Are you ready, dear?” Auntie Jane called as she knocked on his door.

“Just a moment, Auntie, it’s open.” He called back knowing she’ll enter if he tells her this and not wanting her to stand outside needlessly.

As expected, his Godmother entered and parched herself on the armchair.

“Just the bowtie, hm?” She said knowingly.

Sherlock glanced at her as he tried to tie the damned thing. “You know I-“

“At last.” An exasperated voice called from outside the open window. Before he could stop himself, Sherlock moved to better see what the commotion was all about.

“Now, will you get the luggage off immediately and take it straight to our rooms?” The same voice continued. It was the strawberry red haired man from the harbour he and Miss Hooper had seen this afternoon. “I do not understand why we weren't met properly.” Sherlock saw him complaining to the woman beside him.

“Well, I think it's simply wonderful.” She replied in a pleading voice. “It's so unspoiled.”

The man sighed as they walked up the stairs leading to the main entrance. “Eh, it's pretty enough, but it's such a long way to come, such an awful journey.” He complained.

“You'll enjoy bathing and lazing about.” The woman promised trying to catch up with the longer strides of her male companion.

“We could have done that in Brixen.” The man complained with a sniff. “Why you wanted to drag us all this way...”

“You'll adore it here, I know.” The woman tried to placate her companion once more.

The man paused to wait for the woman. “I can see that you mean to enjoy yourself.” He replied. “Oh, well. Give me a bath and a bed, and perhaps it'll be better in the morning.” He allowed as their voices faded away when they entered the hotel.

Sherlock closed the window and looked back at his Godmother sheepishly. Auntie Janie just gave him a pensive look.

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make my day :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rhodes Island belonged to the Italians in the 1930s.

Chapter Two

xxx

By some strange turn of events the very next morning Sherlock and his Auntie Jane found themselves on the beach next to Miss Hooper and Miss Hawkins. The previous evening had gone rather surprisingly well, pleasant in fact. Lieutenant Donlevy had kept to himself not approaching Miss Hooper at all, be it to Sherlock’s presence near the delightful young lady or to the disdainful looks Miss Hawkins had sent his way from time to time. Auntie Jane and Miss Hooper had fallen into a pleasant conversation about the life in English village and Miss Hawkins had clearly enjoyed flirting with Sherlock, himself. He had been polite to her and …all of a sudden way more interested in the village life than he had ever been before. Neither of the recently arrived couples had been seen during the evening yesterday.

But now, here one of them was. This Marlene Carmichael in her white, really lowcut bathing suit and her gorilla of a husband, picturesque and ravishing for all to admire.

“Tony, darling?” Sherlock heard the woman call in a breathy, low voice.

“Yes.” The dark haired man turned toward his wife from his posed sitting position.

“My cigarette case.” She demanded. It was laying right next to her leg.

Sherlock sniffed at them and looked at his own party instead.

Auntie Jane was hidden under the beach umbrella, wearing a light summer attire and sitting comfortably on the beach chair. She was knitting as usual. Sherlock had no doubt her keen eyes took everything around her as usual. Miss Hawkins was lying down on her stomach waring her red one piece bathing suit cut in the newest fashion. Miss Hooper sat closest to his beach chair, clothed in a dark green bathing suit similar in its cut to her cousin’s.

“She makes me feel so …undercooked.” Miss Hooper said mischievously nodding meaningfully toward Mrs. Carmichael. “I’m so patchy still.” She gestured at her legs. Sherlock tried to avoid looking at the creamy skin exposed before him all ready to be admired. He could feel the knowing smirk on his Auntie’s face and purposefully did not look her way.

“I’m all freckles, maybe I should avoid the sun altogether.” Miss Hooper mused.

“Nonsense.” Miss Hawkins told her as she lifted up her head. “We’re on vacation and you are supposed to sunbath to your heart content.”

Miss Hooper shot her a look. “She and you both are really so lucky. Getting a smooth tan.” She complained.

Sherlock thought Miss Hooper’s pale complexion was way more compelling than any tanned skin on either Miss Hawkins or Mrs. Carmichael. But he decided to keep his opinion to himself all too aware of his Auntie’s presence and his own slight anxiousness over Miss Hooper’s potential response to this bold sentiment coming from him.

“Oh, dear, that bathing dress is a mistake.” Miss Hawkins said as she looked up at the path leading to the beach from their hotel.

Sherlock and Miss Hooper looked there as well.

The other married couple that had arrived yesterday was coming down toward them. The man was wearing a simple bathrobe over his bathing suit while the woman was garbed into a flowery jacket and long loose dress. She had a big hat on her head.

“Morning.” The man called politely to them as they passed their place.

“Good morning.” The woman added with a pleasant smile. “Lovely day.”

They stopped slightly in the middle between Sherlock’s beach party and that of the Carmichaels.

“Shall I put yours here, darling?” The man asked his wife as he opened the beach chairs for his companion and himself.

She shot him a smile. “Yes, so I can get a little bit of sun.” Then she turned toward Sherlock’s party. “I feel so dreadfully faded, but I freckle rather than going brown.” She explained apropos of nothing.

Miss Hooper smiled understandably. “Have you ever been to Rhodes before?” She asked with a polite smile.

The woman replied with one of her own. “No. It's lovely, isn't it?” She turned to her husband. “Such a clever idea of yours, darling.”

Sherlock straightened a bit at this and looked at the pair a little more closely. He shot his Auntie a quick glance. She was knitting unperturbed but as if sensing his glance she gave a tiny nod.

“Scarcely heard of the place.” The man replied. “I thought it was Greek, maybe, or Turkish.” He finished with the chairs. “No idea it was Italian. If it were only nearer England.” He gave them a conspiratorially look.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Did you come from Brindisi?” Miss Hawkins asked politely.

“Yes, came on the ferry last night.” The man nodded as he took off his bathrobe and stood, quite like a peacock, Sherlock thought snidely. He followed the man’s gaze and landed right on the Carmichaels. Mrs. Carmichael sat up a little straighter as well as she smoked her cigarette and gave the newcomer an appraising look.

“The sea is simply lovely, so blue.”

Sherlock looked back to the newcomers. The new woman, who had just spoken, unclothed her dress to reveal a modest, out of fashion bathing suit in a non-descriptive colour. Her attention was on the sea before her.

“I think we ought to go in now, Douglas, don't you?” She asked her husband.

His attention was elsewhere though. “Oh, yes, rather.” He shot his wife a glance. “Uh, in a minute.”

Miss Hooper raised her eyebrows as she shot Sherlock an incredulous glance.

“I’ll go with you, if it’s alright.” Miss Hawkins offered, getting up.

“Oh, yes, of course.” The woman smiled and together they went to the sea.

Sherlock looked back to the Carmichaels, who were still being openly observed by this Douglas man.

“Just pull that towel a little flatter, would you, darling?” He heard Mrs. Carmichael say.

Her husband got up and pulled the towel behind the woman dutifully.

Sherlock looked back at Miss Hooper and saw her observing the little display before them in interest.

“Tony, darling, would you mind?” They heard the question coming from the Carmichaels once more and Sherlock looked back at them.

“What's that?” Mr. Carmichael asked.

“I've left a little pot of face cream in the bathing cart.” The woman explained. “I meant to bring it with me.” She gave her husband a pleading face. “Do get it for me. There's an angel.”

The man put on his robe. “Yes, darling.” And left to do her biding.

“He must be crazy about her. Wouldn't you say?” Miss Hooper called to the man standing in front of them and Sherlock looked down at her curious as she did so then looked up to see the man answer.

But this Douglas man only nodded absentmindedly.

Auntie Jane sniffed beside him.

“It's lovely, Douglas, so warm!” Douglas’ wife called from the sea, waving.

Miss Hawkins swam next to her, clearly enjoying herself, too.

“Do come!” The first woman called to her husband once more.

“Aren't you going in?” Miss Hooper asked him.

The man looked back at her. “Oh, I, uh -- I like to get well hotted up first.” He said and started a simple warm-up, doing side bends of his upper torso, his gaze still firmly planted on Mrs. Carmichael. “I like my dip last thing.” He added a little distractedly.

“Oh, dear, I can't get this thing undone.” Another statement came their way from the Carmichaels party.

Sherlock marvelled at the expressive nature of Miss Hooper. The clear disbelief on her face at this exclamation coming from Mrs. Carmichael as the later woman tried to open a nail polish bottle made him want to smile.

“I'm hopeless. I…” Mrs. Carmichael continued. Miss Hooper looked back at Sherlock with a look of wonder on her face.

“Um, I wonder…” Mrs. Carmichael looked around ostensibly staring straight at them. “um, would you…?” She asked helplessly.

Miss Hooper made to get up, but Auntie Jane tutted at her. She shouldn’t have bothered anyway as Mr. Douglas What’s-his-last-name hurried immediately toward the lady in need.

“Can I do it for you?” The man asked clearly giving the lady in question a besotted look. Interesting.

The woman gave him a wan smile. “Oh, thank you. You are kind. I'm such a fool at undoing things. Oh, you are a clever boy. You've done it.” She took from him the now opened nail polish bottle, still smiling widely.

Sherlock watched the interactions intrigued. He chanced a glance at his Godmother and wasn’t surprised to see a concerned frown on her brow. She knitted more forcefully too. Miss Hooper also was watching the display before them with interest.

“We must have been on the same ferry.” Mrs. Carmichael said conversationally.

The man gazed at her entrapped. “Mm.”

“It's Douglas, isn't it?” Mrs. Carmichael asked, and Sherlock heard Miss Hooper snort at the audacity of the other lady.

“Yes. Douglas Gold.” The man introduced himself and got up as Mr. Carmichael returned to them.

Mrs. Carmichael looked up to her husband. “Darling, Douglas has just been so kind to me.” She turned toward Mr. Gold. “My husband, Tony.” She introduced and the men exchanged ‘How do you do’s.

“And your wife's called?” Mrs. Carmichael asked looking toward the sea.

“Vivian.” Mr. Gold replied.

“Of course.” Mrs. Carmichael nodded.

Miss Hooper shook her head at this display and turned expectantly to Sherlock. He looked down at her.

“Don't you think that human beings tend to reproduce certain patterns, Mr. Holmes?” She asked meaningfully and draw a triangle on the sand with her finger. “Stereotyped patterns?” She added.

“Indeed, Miss Hooper.” Sherlock nodded with a knowing smile. “Indeed.”

Auntie Jane just knitted beside them. “Just like the Vicar and Baker’s wife.” She said.

Sherlock and Miss Hooper turned toward her. “What was that, Auntie Jane?” Sherlock asked.

Auntie Jane knitted. “They remind me of the vicar and the baker’s wife in my home village.” She said.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

“Really? How so?” Miss Hooper asked curiously.

“Everyone thought the vicar was having an affair with the baker’s wife, but all along it was the baker who tried to steal the bread recipe from the vicar’s wife.” Aunt Jane explained as if it was the most natural and obvious thing.

“Oh.” Miss Hooper blinked at this.

Sherlock shot her an sympathising smile.

“It’s like you said, dear,” Aunt Jane continued. “People tend to reproduce certain patterns again and again all over the world.”

Miss Hooper just smiled and Sherlock’s heart fluttered at the dimples that appeared on her cheeks.

xxx

“Did you manage to avoid that Lieutenant?” Janine asked as Molly had finally ran down the stairs to the meeting point for the group going on the hotel tour of the old city.

“Yes.” Molly breathed. “Thankfully.”

“Awfully persistent, isn’t he?” Janine asked.

“Shouldn’t you be happy someone is paying some attention to me?” Molly teased Janine. “After all, you think I should marry soon.”

Janine looped her arm through Molly’s. “Not that Donlevy man.” She sniffed. “You can have better prospects than him, say that Mr. Holmes.” Janine wriggled her eyebrows. 

Molly blushed looking down, but couldn’t stop the smile blooming on her face.

“Ha! I knew it!” Janine laughed. “He is dreamy, wouldn’t mind marrying him myself.” She elbowed her younger cousin.

Molly shot her a glare.

Janine shushed her as their tour guide started the introduction. They were just living the hotel grounds when a conversation behind her caught Molly’s attention.

“Your wife's not with you this afternoon, Douglas?” Molly was sure it was Mrs. Carmichael, she has this smoky voice in which she spoke.

“No, uh, Vivian wasn't feeling too well.” Came the reply. _How convenient._ Molly couldn’t help thinking. "Probably too much sun this morning.” Mr. Gold continued. “So I came alone.”

“Ah.” Came the noncommittal reply.

As they turned the corner Molly chanced a look back.

“Well, we'll just have to make the best of it on our own.” Mrs. Carmichael said as she looped her arm through Mr. Gold’s.

Janine shot Molly a look, Molly just shrugged.

xxx

That afternoon Sherlock took his Godmother for a walk around the city. She was not the youngest so they decided against the tour provided by the hotel. It wasn’t something Sherlock really wanted to do, but better safe than sorry in case Auntie Jane decided to tell on him to his Mother. Not that Auntie Jane would really do it, but Sherlock preferred not to chance it anyway. Plus he _was_ supposed to be Auntie Jane’s companion for this holiday so he better try to do his best. Occasionally.

“Ah.” Auntie Jane called as she waved to someone.

Sherlock looked up. Mrs. Gold garbed in a white summer dress with a matching hat came toward them.

“Mrs. Gold.” He nodded toward her.

“Miss Marple.” She nodded at his Godmother. “Mr. Holmes.”

“Hello.” Auntie Jane nodded back. “Sherlock was just pointing this particular detail.” She nodded toward the local men working nearby, “they have some freshwater and seawater poison.”

Sherlock took it all in stride, pretending he knew what his Godmother was all about.

“Fascinating” Mrs. Gold replied.

“Would you like to walk with us?” Auntie Jane asked. Sherlock groaned inwardly but couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound downright rude. This was tedious.

“Yes, thank you.” Mrs. Gold replied. “And what a beautiful day.”

“Ah.” His Aunt nodded. Sherlock was already bored.

“Douglas and I are always lucky in our weather.” Mrs. Gold commented as they made their way down the road.

“You do not bathe this afternoon, Mrs. Gold?” Sherlock couldn’t help the jibe at the woman.

Auntie Jane shot him a warning glance. He sighed.

Mrs. Gold replied unperturbed. “No, only once a day.” She gave them a sheepish look. “We'd arranged to go on a tour of the old city this afternoon, but somehow or other we missed each other.” She shrugged.

“Indeed?” Sherlock asked dubiously.

Mrs. Gold looked ahead of herself. “You know, when one sees so much trouble and unhappiness and so many couples divorcing each other and that sort of thing, one does feel very grateful for one's own happiness.”

Sherlock frowned at this disclosure.

“It is pleasant to hear you say so, Mrs. Gold.” Auntie Jane replied.

“That's why I feel so sorry for people who aren't happy.” Mrs. Gold continued conversationally. “Mrs. Carmichael, for instance.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose up. “Mrs. Carmichael?” He couldn’t help repeating.

Mrs. Gold looked at him briefly. “In a way, one feels sorry for her.” She explained. “I mean, in spite of all her money and good looks, she's the sort of woman, I think, that men would get tired of very easily. Don't you think so?”

Auntie Jane hummed noncommittally.

“Men are just like children.” Mrs. Gold continued.

Sherlock bristled at this offended.

“They believe anything.” Mrs. Gold concluded.

Sherlock had a scalding retort on the tip of his tongue but Auntie Jane squeezed his arm and changed the topic asking about someone form Mrs. Gold’s hometown. Turns out they had mutual friends and chatted about them for the reminder of the journey back to the hotel.

Sherlock felt a strange unsettlement in his bones at this unexpected diatribe from Mrs. Gold. But he couldn’t explain why.

xxx

Sherlock left his Godmother in the hotel room, as she wanted a short nap before the dinner, and headed to the patio in front of the hotel. He took his latest science book with him and asked for a pot of tea.

His quiet reading was interrupted by a voice somewhere to his right.

“Douglas, a pink gin. I positively must have a pink gin.” He recognised the voice of Mrs. Carmichael.

From the opposite direction, where the beach was, Sherlock could see Mr. Carmichael coming up garbed in a robe and with a towel draped over his shoulder.

“Have a nice bathe, Tony, darling?” Mrs. Carmichael asked her husband.

There was no reply. Sherlock watched as the man walked briskly past his wife.

“'Tony?” She asked clearly surprised.

The man entered the hotel without a glance in her direction.

Sherlock saw Mrs. Carmichael stare after him for a second then smile brightly. “Hasn't it been a marvellous day, Miss Hawkins, Miss Hooper?” She nodded toward the young ladies coming up from the gardens.

They smiled at her uncomfortably, clearly being witnesses to the previous little scene.

“Good afternoon.” Douglas Gold greeted them as he brought the pink gin to Mrs. Carmichael.

“Shall we wander over there?” She asked him and they walked away.

Miss Hawkins shrugged and started toward the hotel. “Are you coming, Molly?”

Miss Hooper shot her smile. “In a moment.” She called and headed straight toward Sherlock's table.

Sherlock felt his heartbeat accelerate. He smiled slightly at her.

“If I may.” She said sitting at his table. “I do not like any of this.” She said without any preambles.

This took him a little by surprise. Still, “Neither do I, Miss Hooper.”, He nodded at her grimly.

“Something is going on, is it not?” Miss Hooper implored him with her big, brown eyes.

He felt as if he could happily drown in them. He blinked and put his hand to his mouth in thought. “It is.” He nodded. “The question is how will it end.”

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make my day :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

xxx

A trip to a Greek Orthodox Church monastery that was situated on the nearby mountain had been organised for the following day. Sherlock had no plans of going whatsoever but thanks to an unexpected turn of the general talk during the breakfast in the day of the trip he ended up on the sign-in list anyway. He was to accompany Miss Hooper and Miss Hawkins as they did not want to go only with Lieutenant Donlevy as their company. Auntie Jane managed to wriggle out of this tedious excursion to Sherlock’s dismay. The only upside of this development were Miss Hooper’s shining eyes as he finally agreed.

As it turned out, the Carmichaels and the Golds also signed on the tour. It looked like the eight of them were going to spend the major of the day in each other's company. The two hour long journey to the monastery went without any significant moments. The talk was downright boring by Sherlock’s standards and only his and Miss Hooper’s occasional foray into her late father’s botanical and scientific discoveries prevented Sherlock from lashing out with rude and distasteful comments and diatribes. Miss Hooper’s knowledge was a delight; although not attending the university herself yet, she already vastly outclassed most if not all of his classmates.

Sherlock also paid additional attention the interactions of the people around him. He couldn’t help it and being in such a close proximities to his Godmother only enhanced this natural inclination of his.

As they all climbed to the monastery itself, Mrs. Gold walked on her own, only assisted from time to time by Lieutenant Donlevy. Mr Carmichael followed not far away from her but paid no attention to any of the females in their group. He also complained about the tediousness of the trip on a regular basis. While Sherlock privately agreed with him, his assistance to both Miss Hooper and Miss Hawkins, alongside Miss Hooper’s glowing look of wonder at the picturesque views before them greatly soothed his displeasure, and surprisingly made the trip much more bearable and even _nice_. Mr. Gold assisted Mrs. Carmichael whenever he could. Miss Hooper often shot Sherlock a meaningful glance after a particular display of Mr. Gold’s helpfulness took place. Sherlock met her looks with a smile or nod of his own, but never stopped from his careful observations of _all_ of their party, noticing other interesting patterns around himself.

The relative peace of the trip was disturbed quite enormously during their lunch break. They were having a meal at a cosy, local restaurant near the seaside and the eight of them were situated at one big table. Mr. Carmichael sat at one end of the table, his wife to his left. Sherlock noticed Mr. Gold clearly heading for the seat next to Mrs. Carmichael but reluctantly skipped it to sit dutifully at the right side to his wife, who took the place at the other end of the table opposite Mr. Carmichael. Lieutenant Donlevy took the empty space between Mrs. Carmichael and Mr. Gold while Sherlock somehow found himself between Miss Hooper and Miss Hawkins probably due to some clever manoeuvring of the later for she smirked knowingly at him. Sherlock flushed slightly and focused on Miss Hooper instead.

“I can't understand a word of this menu.” Miss Hooper said to him with a sheepish smile.

Sherlock looked at his. “Well, take mine. This one's got some English.” They exchanged the menus. “Translation's a bit rough, though.” He warned with a smile.

Miss Hooper smiled back gratefully. “Thank you. I never had any talents for languages.” She smiled at him. “It’s a miracle I remember the few words in the native tongue here.”

“I can teach you some more if you’d like.” Sherlock offered before he could stop himself. He felt the heat creeping up his neck at the beaming smile on Miss Hooper’s face. Thankfully before he was forced to think of something else to say, a troupe of local musicians came to their table playing the traditional songs of the island.

“Do we have to have this?” Mr. Carmichael sniffed disdainfully. “We can't hear ourselves speak.”

“Let us not be disrespectful of the local customs.” Miss Hawkins said as she was nearest to the grumpy man.

Mr. Carmichael took a sip of his glass. “Is this wine?”

“Looks like pink gin.” Mrs. Carmichael said in a pleasant way.

Mr. Carmichael scowled at her. “I think it's terrible.”

An uncomfortable air settled around the table.

“-people are doing it all the time.” Miss Hooper’s voice was heard over the whole table now as the musicians moved to another corner of the restaurant. She was addressing Mrs Gold who listened intensely.

“Well, I belong to the old-fashioned generation, that doesn't believe in divorce.” Mrs. Gold replied in a firm tone. Everyone sort of looked at her as her voice raised a little above normal. “The sort of attitude there is to life nowadays! If you do a thing and you don't like it, you get yourself out of it as quickly as possible.” Here she raised her head a little higher. Sherlock noticed Miss Hooper tense beside him as if in painful anticipation. Mrs. Gold concluded. “Easy marriage, easy divorce - I _hate_ that.”

A pregnant pause followed.

“You seem to know a great deal about marriage, Mrs. Gold.” It was Mr. Carmichael who reacted first. His voice was cold and hard as he glared at the woman sitting opposite him.

Mrs. Gold faltered, suddenly horrified. “Oh, I'm sorry. I- I- I-“

“It strikes me you've been listening to far too many scandalmongers.” Mr. Carmichael was relentless. “Just because a woman is good-looking, people come down on her like a ton of bricks.”

Sherlock wondered if Mrs. Gold will start crying, judging by the miserable look on her face. “Oh, but I didn't mean-“ And with that she got up and ran from the table.

“Oh, dear!” Sherlock hear Miss Hooper say beside him.

Mr. Gold got up shocked by his wife’s performance. “Vivian?” Then he turned toward Mr. Carmichael with a glare. “There was no need for that!”

But the dark haired man was on a roll. “Yes, well, I can't imagine why you brought your wife on holiday, anyway, Gold.” He sneered.

Mr. Gold bristled. “What do you mean?” He demanded.

“Because you only have eyes for Marlene.” Mr. Carmichael nodded toward his wife who watched this incident, frankly, looking quite unperturbed herself.

“Don't be ridiculous.” Mr. Gold scoffed. “You must be drunk.”

Mr. Carmichael leaned back in his chair. “If you and my wife think you can put this one over on me, you're very much mistaken.” He promised darkly. “I'll not be got rid of as easily as all that.”

Never before had Sherlock hated the social cues and obligations as much as in that moment. It might have seemed entertaining but in truth it was nothing but downright uncomfortable. He was positively seething inside being witness to all this idiotic drama. Oh, how he wished in that moment he had not allowed Miss Hooper’s eyes nor his Godmother’s scheming to make him agree to join this dreary excursion!

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Out of the blue the waiter appeared next to their table. “Are you ready to order now?”

Miss Hooper put her menu and her serviette down. “If you excuse me.” She said and left in the same direction as Mrs. Gold.

Oh, how Sherlock envied her!

xxx

Late afternoon the same day Sherlock took his Godmother for another walk around the hotel. The warm weather seemed to be doing some good for her falling health. They ran into Miss Hooper and Miss Hawkins on their way.

“That thing at the lunch was downright dreadful.” Miss Hawkins said as the four of them sat at the patio to share some afternoon tea.

“Oh?” Auntie Jane asked interested as Sherlock had not filled her in yet on all the happenings of the day so far.

“Mrs. Gold made some disparaging comments about Mrs. Carmichael and divorce.” Sherlock shrugged.

“Oh, dear.” Auntie Jane exclaimed.

“Yes, and then Mr. Carmichael not only eviscerated her but also called Mr. Gold on his blatant flirting with his wife.” Miss Hawkins added.

“Did he?” Auntie Jane frowned.

“Vivian thinks Marlene will divorce Carmichael and marry Douglas.” Miss Hooper disclosed.

“Really?” Miss Hawkins’ eyebrows rose.

Miss Hooper nodded. “She’s sure it’s all infatuation on her husband’s part but expects demands of divorce any time soon, anyway.”

“After the display during lunch I can't see Carmichael giving up without a fight.” Miss Hawkins replied.

“Who could have predicted such passion, right, Mr. Holmes?” Miss Hooper looked at him.

“Hmm?” He shook his head a little. “There is a storm coming, I think.” He allowed with a tight smile.

Auntie Jane took a sip of her tea. “Mr. Gold loves his wife, wouldn’t you say?” She asked them.

“Well…” Miss Hooper exchanged a look with her cousin. “Maybe…”

“Looks like Mrs. Carmichael has got hold of him, body and soul, though.” Miss Hawkins added.

Auntie Jane hummed. “If you, girls, could be so nice and give Mrs. Gold some advice from me.”

“Advice?” Miss Hooper and Miss Hawkins asked simultaneously.

Auntie Jane nodded. “She may take it better coming from you.” She paused. “Tell her that she and her husband should leave this place before it is too late.” She looked at the young ladies grimly.

“Too late?” Miss Hooper asked shocked.

Auntie Jane looked them in the eyes. “She should leave this island if she value her life.”

Sherlock frowned, feeling disquieted by his Godmother’s warning. Something niggled at his brain, something wasn’t right about all of this and Auntie Jane’s advice seemed misguided in all its honesty. He just couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was off.

“Hello!” a voice called to them.

They looked up from their sudden mulish mood to see Lieutenant Donlevy heading their way. “Miss Hooper.” He nodded with a wide smile at the petite young woman. Sherlock bristled. “Miss Hawkins. Miss Marple.” His smile was polite but less brilliant. “Mr. Holmes.” His smile all but disappeared.

Various hellos were heard in reply.

“Looks like we’re gonna have some fish this evening, heh?” Lieutenant Donlevy said showing them the fish in his hand.

The ladies smiled politely at him, Sherlock just scowled.

The Lieutenant continued. “Barbouni. Catch them unawares first thing in the morning.” He smiled at Miss Hooper.

She gave him a weak one in reply then shot her cousin a furtive glance.

“The red mullet would be ideal for dinner.” Auntie Jane nodded.

Sherlock looked at her inquiringly, thoughtful.

Miss Hawkins sniffed standing up. “Oh, look at the time, we need to be going. Do excuse us.” She said, and jostled Lieutenant Donlevy with her shoulder on her way.

Surprisingly, the Lieutenant’s gaze followed _her_ this time.

Then he shook his head. “Well, I better get this to the kitchens, then?” The Lieutenant said and nodded politely before leaving.

Auntie Jane hummed amusedly. “Say, Sherlock do you recall your mother telling you about the Cavendish family?” She asked him all of a sudden.

Sherlock frowned at his Godmother. “No.” He hated all kind of gossip.

Auntie Jane tutted at him disapprovingly. “You should pay more attention to society, my boy.”

Sherlock just scowled at her.

xxx

“Sherlock, if you may.” Auntie Jane called to him from her seat in the corner where she had been knitting quietly the whole evening. 

In the evening of the day following the trip to the monastery the other ladies decided to go out of town on one thing or another but his Godmother declined citing her fragile health. She stayed with the men, hidden in her corner, inconspicuous as always.

Sherlock looked from the billiard game between Mr. Carmichael and Mr. Gold. By the looks of it, the two men had patched up their differences sometime this afternoon, Sherlock thought to himself as he took a swing of his scotch and walked toward his Godmother.

“I’m a little tired, I think I’m going to turn in.” She said gathering her knitting and wool.

“Oh, do you need help?” Sherlock asked, giving her the basket for her tools.

Auntie Jane hesitated. “I-“

Sherlock could tell she didn’t want to take him away from the evening, but he was supposed to be there as her companion and aid. He helped her up and offered his arm resolutely. She smiled at him gratefully and he returned her smile with a soft one of his own. He _did_ like Auntie Jane. He escorted her upstairs to her room, where they talked for a while as he prepared her a cup of tea before bed. Finally, he bid her good night.

He was contemplating turning in himself, despite it still being a rather early hour. He was really tempted to use walking Auntie Jane back to her room as an excuse and do some additional reading for his studies. On the other hand, Miss Hooper was due to return anytime soon, maybe she even already di-

And speak of the devil! The young lady in question just ran up the stairs.

Sherlock startled at the frantic look on her face.

“Mr. Holmes!” She cried. “Oh, thanks heaven, quick! It’s Mrs. Carmichael. She’s unwell! It looks like she’s having trouble breathing!” She gasped.

Sherlock ran down the stairs toward the parlour where not long ago he had been nursing a drink of his own. He could hear Miss Hooper following him.

“We just got back a couple of minutes before.” She gasped out. “We got our drinks and I joined her on the sofa to talk, but she just couldn’t catch her breath.” She explained as they entered the front parlour.

Everyone of their English party were gathered there. The Golds stood together watching with wide eyes, Miss Hawkins with a disbelieving look on her face stood next to them. Lieutenant Donlevy just entered by the other doors leading straight from the Lobby. All of them were looking at Mr. Carmichael kneeling beside the sofa.

“Oh no!” Miss Hooper gasped.

On the sofa, still as a statue laid Mrs. Carmichael.

“She’s dead.” Mr. Carmichael whispered to the deafening silence that had fallen over the parlour.

He got up slowly. “That was my drink, Gold.” He said in a grave voice. “I did not touch it.” He turned around and practically jumped at Mr. Gold. “What did you put in there?!”

“What? I didn’t! I- I-“ Mr. Gold stammered shocked by the events.

“You killed her!” Mr. Carmichael accused. “You meant to kill _me_ , but you killed _her_.” He took a step toward the shorter man and pointed at him. “I'll see you hang for this, Gold. I'll see you hang for this.”

“I- I- I didn't do anything.” Mr. Gold denied looking around, a panicked look on his face.

Miss Hooper whimpered slightly and grasped Sherlock’s arm. He chanced a glance in her direction and put his hand on top of hers that were clutching his elbow. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

Sherlock’s lips tightened. He looked around the room once more and frowned. The feeling of wrongness he had for the last couple of days intensified. If only he could grasp why.

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are like a sunshine on a cloudy day! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

xxx

Called by the hotel staff, the local police had arrived shortly. Mrs. Carmichael had been taken to the local morgue while, under the strong insistence of Mr. Carmichael, Mr. Gold had been arrested and put in a local jail. Miss Hawkins had taken Mrs. Gold to her room and stayed with her until the distraught woman fell asleep.

Sherlock’s mind whirled. Events from the past few days played in his mind over an over again as he tried to piece all the things that were making him feel so unsettled. He and Miss Hooper were walking up the stairs to their respective rooms when the door to his Godmother’s room opened.

“What was all the commotion about, Sherlock?” Auntie Jane asked sleepily then she gasped seeing Molly’s pale face. “My dear girl, come in, you look as if you had a fright.”

“I’m ok, Miss Marple.” Miss Hooper protested, but allowed Sherlock to gently guide her into his Godmother’s room.

Auntie Jane had a robe and a shawl pulled over her as she prepared a pot of tea. “Tell me what has happened.”

“Mrs. Carmichael is dead.” Sherlock told her flatly.

Auntie Jane paused and closed her eyes. “I was afraid something of the sort would happened.” She murmured.

“Couldn’t you do anything?!” Miss Hooper exclaimed.

But it was Sherlock who answered her. “Do what?”

Miss Hooper looked stricken.

Sherlock sighed and ruffled his hair with his hands. “This doesn’t make sense!” He growled.

“Oh?” Auntie Jane looked at him with sharp eyes. “Why do you think so?”

Sherlock looked at her. “I don’t know, it just feel …off.”

“Hmm.” Auntie Jane poured them all tea. “Tell me what has happened. It’s always the best thing to do at the beginning.” She added looking pointedly at Sherlock. He blinked at her and nodded.

“As you know I was with you most of the time, Auntie Jane, so it’s up to Miss Hooper to tell us what exactly has happened downstairs.” Sherlock looked at the young woman beside them.

“Molly.” She said instead.

“I beg your pardon?” Sherlock blinked at her.

“Call me Molly, please.” She asked, then blushed.

“Oh. Oh, of course. But only if you’ll call me Sherlock.” He replied, and tried to ignore the warmth spreading up from his neck to his cheeks.

Auntie Jane smirked as she sipped her tea. Sherlock ignored her as well.

He shifted slightly. “Well then, tell us what has happened, …Molly.” Sherlock said, ignoring the slight shiver that went through him as her name rolled down his tongue. He _liked_ calling her that.

Molly’s cheeks reddened but she sat a little more straighter. “We, I mean, Janine, Mrs. Gold and I and- and M-Mrs. Carmichael, we got back from our trip to the see the sunset. We entered the hotel and headed straight to the parlour. The men greeted us.”

“Who exactly?” Sherlock asked. Auntie Jane nodded approvingly beside him.

“Well, Mr. Gold and Mr. Carmichael. And Lieutenant Donlevy. He was there too.” Molly replied. “They asked us about drinks. Mr. Gold said they were on him.”

Sherlock frowned. “Did the men ordered their drinks too?”

Molly thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. No. They were already having theirs.” She looked back at him. “I’m sure of it as Mrs. Carmichael asked for a pink gin and Mr. Carmichael told her to drink his and that he will order himself another one.”

Sherlock frowned. “He ordered a _pink gin_ for himself?” He asked a little dubiously.

“Curious, isn’t it?” Auntie Jane nodded.

“That’s what he said.” Molly confirmed.

Sherlock hummed. “And from Mr. Carmichael accusations we know the drink that was supposed to be his actually came from Mr. Gold.”

Molly just shrugged.

“So what are you going to do now?” Auntie Jane asked.

“What?” Sherlock looked back at her.

She gave him a look. “While Molly here,” Auntie Jane gave her an encouraging smile, “provided us with sufficient recounting of the events, it’s still not enough, is it?” She asked expectantly.

Sherlock frowned. “I suppose not.” He said slowly then frowned. “We should question Mr. Gold.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Auntie Jane nodded.

“But will they allow us to talk with him?” Molly asked anxiously. “We are barely adults ourselves.”

“You are English people and Sherlock’s name carry a certain weight.” Auntie Jane explained. “You should also ask Lieutenant Donlevy. Maybe he’ll be of some help to you.”

Sherlock looked at her, surprised once more by her perceptiveness. “Maybe he will.” He nodded in agreement.

“Molly.” Her first name on his tongue still made him a little hot around his collar. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Molly shot him a defiant look. “Are you going to question Mr. Gold now?” She asked boldly.

Sherlock blinked. “I am.”

“Then I’m going with you.” She proclaimed.

“It’s almost midnight!” He shot back.

“And we are going to the _police station_.” She replied with a triumphant smile.

Auntie Jane just hummed amusedly behind him. “Women can bring a certain air of calmness and openness.” Auntie Jane commented and gave him a twinkling look.

He exhaled. “Fine.” He looked at Molly. “You better take something to cover your shoulders it might be cold outside.”

Molly grinned at him triumphantly. “I’ll be right back, I’ll let Janine know where I’m going, too.”

“She’s not coming with us!” Sherlock called after her. “Or you are both staying behind!”

Auntie Jane giggled softly at him.

Sherlock scowled and tried to ignore the warmth spreading up his neck. Again.

xxx

Their trip to the police station was uneventful. The hotel provided a car that took them there as the manager was willing to help in any way to prevent a scandal. Molly was quiet during their drive. Sherlock felt a little uneasy. She had been always such a happy chatterbox.

“Are you ok?” He asked uncertainly.

“Oh.” Molly looked back at him. “I just thought that I was one of the very few last people she spoke with.” She shrugged.

Sherlock wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Uncertainly he put his hand on hers. Molly gave him a grateful look and squeezed his in turn.

Before Sherlock could find anything else to say the car stopped at the police station. The policeman on duty wasn’t too happy about them being there but Molly just smiled and pleaded to let them speak with their friend, Mr. Gold. Her charm got them in.

Mr. Gold looked wrecked. Not that either Sherlock or Molly could really blame him. He looked up as he heard them coming. His face, first hopeful, fell down as he saw just the two of them.

“How is Vivian?” He asked.

“My cousin might have helped her calm down, she’s probably asleep now.” Molly told him reassuringly.

Mr. Gold just nodded.

“Mr. Gold.” Sherlock started feeling a little impatient about all this small talk. “We’d like to talk with you for a moment about everything that has happened.”

“I didn’t kill Marlene! I swear!” He said immediately.

Molly took a step toward him. “I believe you.” She said.

Sherlock huffed at this. She shot him a glare then took a step back.

Sherlock stepped forward to the man and asked. “What can you tell us about Mrs. Carmichael?”

The man laughed hollowly. “Oh, I was attracted to her. Who wouldn't be?” He looked at them.

 _Me_. Sherlock thought snidely, then his mind flashed to another female on the island who _was_ drawing his attention.

“It was all within the bounds of propriety, though.” Mr. Gold said firmly.

Sherlock blinked and nodded at him. “Did she confide in you? Said anything of importance?”

Mr. Gold nodded. “A little.”

“Was Marlene Carmichael a happy woman?” Molly asked.

Mr. Gold looked at her. “In her marriage, you mean?”

Molly blushed and shrugged her shoulders. “Yes?” She said with an uncertain smile.

Sherlock’s lips twitched.

Mr. Gold replied anyway. “She was rather lost and afraid.”

This caught Sherlock attention. “Afraid of what?

“Of Carmichael.” Mr. Gold replied in an obvious tone. “She thought he was jealous.”

“Of you?” Sherlock asked.

“Of _anyone_ who paid attention to her.” Mr. Gold shot back. “She was so helpless in many ways, Holmes.” He said in a teary voice. “I-I felt protective towards her. But somehow everything got out of hand- Carmichael behaving like a bull, then Vivian getting all hysterical…” He paused trying to gather his wrecked nerves.

“They will… They will hang me for this.” He whispered.

Sherlock knew he didn’t have much time to stop it from happening if the man before him was truly innocent. And he leaned to agree with Molly on this being actually the case.

Molly looked up at Sherlock then moved to put her hand on Mr. Gold’s.

Mr. Gold’s face crumbled. “Mr. Gold... You are a Catholic, right?” She asked gently.

Sherlock gave her a look at this strange question.

Mr. Gold looked at her with confusion. “Yes.”

Molly smiled at him. “My grandmother was too. Faith can be a great consolation, can’t it?” She asked gently.

Mr. Gold nodded.

“Have faith.” Molly said squeezing his hand.

Sherlock pondered this new information.

xxx

Sherlock spent the whole night thinking about the events of the eventful evening and everything that had preceded it all. He tried to sleep but his mind could not stop from turning all the information- the clues!- over and over until it all fit into a whole neat picture. He had a theory, one that made the only logical sense yet needed to be irrevocably proved.

Early next morning he caught up with Lieutenant Donlevy as the man passed the Lobby.

“Lieutenant Donlevy, if you please!” He called him. “We had not have much time for a chat before, had we?”

“Ah, well.” Obviously the man was slightly confused by this sudden spark of camaraderie. _Good_ , Sherlock thought.

“You've been very busy, haven’t you? The mullet yesterday was excellent. You must tell me where exactly did you buy it.” Sherlock said with an insincere smile.

“What do you mean?” The man before him bristled. “I had to go a long way out for that.”

“Oh, no, Lieutenant. Your interests are closer to the shore.” Sherlock told him smugly.

“Now listen you, lad.” The Lieutenant glowered.

“The Italians, as you also noticed, are strengthening their harbour defences for military use, aren’t they?” Sherlock gave him a knowing look.

Lieutenant Donlevy paled slightly. “You're very sharp-eyed, Mr. Holmes.”

“Perhaps.” Sherlock nodded. “But fear not, we have mutual acquaintances. In my case he’s actually a blood relative.”

“Really? Who?” Lieutenant Donlevy asked in a dubious voice.

“Mycroft Holmes.” Sherlock loathed the idea of using his connection to his brother but a man’s life depended on this.

Lieutenant Donlevy gulped. “What do you need?”

“A way into the local police department and information.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

xxx

Without any troubles Sherlock got admitted to see the local police Commandant in order to discuss Mr. Gold’s case. The meeting itself did not went as smoothly though.

“The poison was contained in the empty bottle, which we discovered in Mr. Gold's dinner-jacket pocket.” The Commandant explained in a heavily accented English. Surprisingly, despite Sherlock’s young age, the Italian man took him quite seriously on his inquires. “It is safe to touch.” The Commandant said pointing to the bottle on his desk.

Sherlock picked it up and uncorked it. He took a cautious whiff of the contains.

“The only fingerprints on it were Douglas Gold's.” The Commandant continued as he got up from his desk. “Mrs. Chantry was a very beautiful woman.” He said passionately as he walked around his office, gesticulating widely. “A public affair was taking place between her and Douglas Gold, but Mr Carmichael was a very possessive husband.” He turned with a swirl. “He would _not_ relinquish his wife.” He looked pointedly at the bottle. “The lover poisons the husband's glass, and then, just when his attention is elsewhere, the wife drinks it instead.” He clasped his hands. “Ecco!” He exclaimed for emphasis.

Sherlock listened to this speech barely containing his urge to roll his eyes. Any sign of disdain would not help him at all. “Oh, it is a scene worthy of the Italian opera, Commandant.” He couldn’t help himself, though, the slight jibe tumbled out from his mouth anyway. “I assume that you asked Douglas Gold to empty the contents of his pockets himself?” He asked conversationally.

The Commandant stopped mid-step. “Yes.” He replied cautiously.

“Hmm.” Sherlock hummed thoughtfully. “Then it is hardly surprising that his fingerprints should be found on the container, is it not?”

The Commandant faltered at this obvious explanation of his main evidence against the suspect.

Sherlock continued. “Do you not find it peculiar, Commandant, that this _calculating_ murderer should be discovered immediately with this very bottle of poison in his pocket?” He shot the Italian man an expectant look.

“There is _no_ doubt, signor.” The Commandant protested firmly in a less friendlier manner, then grew a little more vivid as he started gesticulating once more. “Perhaps, when the cold-blooded Englishman comes out into the sun, it warms his passion.” He added hopefully.

Sherlock looked at him with disbelief.

The Commandant sagged. “Ah, _basta_!” He said firmly.

Sherlock winced and got up to leave the police station as the Commandant clearly intended him to do.

“But Mr. Gold doesn’t admit his guilt.” Sherlock still pointed out.

The Commandant walked briskly barely giving him a glance. “On the contrary, he protests his innocence just because the wrong person died.” He said dismissively. “That is no defence.”

Sherlock stared at the man for a second with a hard look then left the police station lost in thoughts, all the pieces seemed to be falling right into the place. Now, just to find the proof.

xxx

To his delight, Sherlock ran into Molly who had been accompanying his Godmother on a stroll around the hotel garden.

“Did you got anything from the police station?” Molly asked him the moment he stepped alongside them.

“I did.” He nodded. “Everything I needed.” He gave her a smile.

“So you know what has happened, then?” Auntie Jane inquired.

Sherlock looked at her. “Not all the details, but most of it.” He nodded.

Auntie Jane smiled mysteriously. “Really?”

Sherlock hummed. “What was it you said about your village the other day?” He asked with a smile. “About the vicar and the baker’s wife?”

Auntie Jane mock gasped. “So you _do_ listen to my ramblings.”

Sherlock made an outraged face, but his eyes twinkled. “I feel offended, Auntie Jane! I _always_ listen to you!”

Auntie Jane patted his arm. “Sure you do, son, sure you do.”

Molly giggled at their teasing. Sherlock shot her a pleased grin.

“So you do know what has exactly happened and who killed Mrs. Carmichael?” She asked hopefully.

Sherlock’s smile turned smug. “I do.”

“Well, then, go on!” Molly urged him.

Sherlock tutted. “You’ll find out when the times is right.” He teased.

“That’s not fair.” Molly complained.

“We need to make sure the killer doesn’t get away with it.” Auntie Jane cautioned.

“Precisely.” Sherlock nodded. “And I still need evidence to convince the police.” He rushed up the stairs to the hotel’s main entrance. Molly and Auntie Jane were coming at a slower pace right behind him.

“What do you mean, I can't pick up my passport?” Mr. Carmichael demanded at the reception.

Sherlock paused to listen what was going on.

“They are my instructions from the police, Mr. Carmichael.” The receptionist explained.

Mr. Carmichael glowered at the shorter man before him. “I want my wife's body given a decent burial back in England, not in some outpost of- of the Italian empire.”

Molly and Auntie Jane entered the lobby as well and stopped beside him. Molly gave Sherlock a questioning look but he just shook his head.

Mr. Carmichael growled at the receptionist. “There's a ship leaving this afternoon, and there's going to be a hell of a stink if I'm not on it.”

“Mr. Carmichael.” A voice called from the stairs leading to the rooms.

Mrs. Gold stood at the feet of the stairs. Poised and elegant. She looked at Mr. Carmichael and took the few steps to stand in front of him.

“There is no recompense I can make for the loss of your wife,” she said in a shaky voice, “nothing I can say to you that's adequate,” she paused clearly in pain, “only that I have _lost_ a husband.”

She seemed to falter then looked at Sherlock’s party standing to the side.

“Oh, Miss Marple, if only we had taken your advice.” She lamented.

“Advice? What advice?” Mr. Carmichael asked in a clipped, sharp tone. Sherlock frowned at him.

“Miss Hawkins, on the behalf of Miss Marple, recommended that we leave the island some days ago.” Mrs. Gold explained in a painful voice.

Sherlock saw Mr. Carmichael sag slightly then straighten his posture. “Then I wish you'd warned me also, Miss Marple.” He said looking at Sherlock’s Godmother.

Auntie Jane just nodded in acknowledgment.

“You are going to visit your husband, Mrs. Gold?” Molly asked.

Mrs. Gold turned toward her and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then may you assure him I also think that he is innocent.” Molly said with a reassuring smile.

Mrs. Gold faltered at this then recovered. “I- I will.”

“You really think his innocent, Miss?” Mr. Carmichael glowered at Molly.

Sherlock took a step to stand a little in front of Molly then gave the older man a challenging look. “ _I_ know so.” He turned toward Mrs. Gold. “And you may rest assured that he _will_ soon be released.”

Both Mr. Carmichael and Mrs. Gold gaped at him.

“If you’ll excuse us, I think Auntie Jane mentioned something about a short nap before lunch.” Sherlock said smoothly.

“That I did.” Auntie Jane played along. “Will you accompany me upstairs, dear?” She asked turning toward Molly.

“Oh, of course.” Molly smiled at Sherlock’s Godmother and helped her ascent the stairs. She shot Sherlock a questioning look but he shook his head slightly and followed them to their room, leaving Mr. Carmichael and Mrs. Gold in the lobby gawking after them.

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are like chocolate. I love chocolate :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all who are familiar with nautical terms, I'm sorry, I really tried.
> 
> There is some transliteration of Greek here:  
> Parakaló - excuse me as in I call for help  
> Efharisto - thank you

Chapter Five

xxx

That same afternoon Molly pleaded with Sherlock to join her and her cousin for tea at the patio. Lieutenant Donlevy was sitting at the table as well. Sherlock was in a sour mood. He _knew_ he had the murder of Mrs. Carmichael solved but he had no way of proving it. It was _infuriating_! An innocent man was going to die, while the real murderer was going to go free. His blood boiled at the thought.

Even Molly’s big, brown eyes couldn’t really bring him from his dark mood. He really didn’t feel like socialising with anyone. He sat around the table feeling rather tense, his insides coiling.

“What's going on, Holmes?” Lieutenant Donlevy asked him.

Sherlock shot him a glare.

“You make all these confounded comments, Sherlock, but it's useless asking you to explain.” Molly added pleadingly.

“Sherlock?” Miss Hawkins’ eyebrows lifted. “Since when the two of you are on the first name basis?”

Molly flushed red. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Since yesterday; now, Molly, I have agreed with you already that Douglas Gold is innocent.” Sherlock glanced at her then looked toward the driveway where Mr. Carmichael helped Mrs. Gold get into the hotel car.

“But that means that one of us poisoned the glass.” Miss Hawkins pointed out a little anxiously looking around the table.

“Indeed.” Sherlock nodded curtly.

His companions looked around each other uneasily. “You don’t think it’s anyone of us?” Molly asked him tentatively.

“No one can be really ruled out.” Sherlock pointed out. “Not, unless we know from where the poison came.” He added then ruffled his hair frustrated. “But the police won’t allow me any further investigations.” He growled. “For them, the case is dried and cut.” He scoffed. “Idiots.”

“Sherlock!” Molly scowled him.

Sherlock ignored her, but his cheeks reddened slightly. He chanced a glance in her direction. Molly was watching him expectantly.

Sherlock’s shoulders sagged a little in remorse.

“Then... I may be able to help you.” Lieutenant Donlevy said suddenly.

Everyone looked at him surprised.

“I trust I may speak among friends?” He inquired pointedly looking at the two young women sitting on both of his sides.

Molly and Miss Hawkins exchanged a look and both nodded simultaneously.

“Go on.” Sherlock encouraged.

Lieutenant Donlevy took out a notebook and looked for a blank page. “The forensic officer is a friend of mine.” He explained. “You understand, Mr. Holmes, this is a matter of _extreme_ delicacy.”

“Of course.” Sherlock nodded in acceptance.

The Lieutenant wrote an address and a short letter of recommendation then gave them to Sherlock with a meaningful look. Sherlock nodded as he took them.

“How do you feel about a stroll around the town, Molly?” Sherlock asked her, feeling suddenly lighter and excited.

Molly beamed at him getting up.

“But!” Miss Hawkins protested then looked at Lieutenant Donlevy warily.

He smiled at her uncertainly.

“I’ll see you at dinner!” Molly called as she followed Sherlock who was already at the gateway to the path leading to the town.

Miss Hawkins spluttered, then huffed and turned toward Lieutenant Donlevy. She gave him a painful smile. He returned it in turn.

xxx

The address Lieutenant Donlevy provided them was in a less savoury part of the town. The place looked a little rumbled and patchy. Inside you could see all the local furniture and tools. The Man, although clearly of English descent, was garbed completely in local fashion, with turban and all. Molly stifled a giggle at the sight.

The man read the letter, then nodded.

“Came out here on holiday, Mr. Holmes,” he said conversationally as he showed them to his office, “fell in love with the place.”

Sherlock stifled the urge to sigh. “You have examined the poison, right?” He asked instead.

“Yes, I did.” The man nodded and looked at his cupboard. He turned to them with a small bottle. “It's local, Rhodian, very old remedy.” He explained. “The Knights of St. John were hospitables, before they were warriors.” He gave Sherlock the bottle. “It's one of their potions, medicinal in its diluted form, lethal when neat and pure.”

Sherlock looked at the clear liquid inside. Molly peered at the bottle no less interested in it than he was. He passed it to her so she could look at it more closely. She beamed at him in gratitude. Sherlock tried to supress the warmness spreading up from his neck to his cheeks.

“What is it exactly?” Sherlock asked the man in front of him instead.

“A snake bite.” The man replied unperturbed. “It's from the fangs of the horned viper.” He sighed. “The island's still full of superstition.”

Molly gave Sherlock back the bottle and he uncorked it to take a cautious sniff.

“It's called _vilitilio occius_.” The man before them concluded. “It’s a local name.”

Sherlock recognised the smell as the same from the bottle found in Mr. Gold’s pocket.

“Where would such a poison be obtained?” He asked as he corked the bottle back.

The man shook his head. “Not on the shelves of a pharmacist.” He shrugged. “Some herbalist or quack.” He smiled at them. “If you really wanted to search, try the streets around here.”

Sherlock nodded and got up.

Molly followed. “Thank you.” She said with a smile.

“Yes, thank you.” Sherlock mumbled as he guided her outside.

“There are so many streets.” Molly sighed once they were outside. “Where do we begin?”

Sherlock paused thinking then shot her an excited look. “We must now appear the mad Englishmen who go out in the midday sun.”

Molly gave him an amused smile.

Sherlock continued. “And I believe we must trust in the old town to give up its secrets.” He concluded. He gave her his arm to take. “Come.” He said and she looped hers through his with a wide smile and trust in her eyes.

Sherlock’s heart soared.

The walked to the nearest alley and started searching.

“Parakaló” He asked a local man. “ _Vilitilio occius_?” The man shook his head.

They tried it a couple of times, always with the same result. To Sherlock’s disappointment Molly extracted her arm from his and started asking various people on other side of the alley.

“ _Vilitilio occius_?” He heard her ask another one.

He turned to the next person on the road. “'Parakaló, _vilitilio occius_?” No success. “Efharisto.” He nodded.

It went for quite a while, neither he nor Molly having found anyone who could help them. They turned into another alley, feeling slightly dejected. The weather wasn’t helping either.

Sherlock lead them to another local person.

“Parakaló.” He asked once more. “ _Vilitilio occius_?'”

The man shook his head firmly.

Sherlock nodded. “Efharisto.”

Molly turned around then touched his arm. He looked at her. She smiled at him and pointed to the other side of the alley. There stood a young local girl smiling at them widely. When she noticed them walking her way, she waved at them excitedly and ran in the opposite direction.

Sherlock and Molly hurried after her, giving each other excited looks.

The girl waved at them once more and started leading them down a back alley. She talked at them excitedly in her native tongue all the time. Finally, they reached a door. The girl waited for them then smiled when they finally caught up with her. She opened the door and Molly prepared to walk in. Sherlock made a step to follow but the girl stopped him explaining in her native tongue that only women were allowed inside.

Molly looked at him questioningly.

Sherlock didn’t like the idea of Molly going inside on her own. But he had no choice. This was their only chance to prove Mr. Gold’s innocence. He hesitated.

“It will be all right.” Molly told him bravely.

Sherlock wanted to protest, concerned, but before he could do so, Molly, with confidence, went inside on her own.

xxx

The girl took Molly to the upper floor and clearly calling to someone there. Not that Molly could understand anything with her lack of talent for languages. She followed the girl up anyway.

There on the landing of the second floor, a very old lady came to meet her. The girl helped her move toward Molly.

The woman raised her hands in general direction of Molly’s face and Molly jerked back involuntarily.

The young girl said something in her native tongue but Molly didn’t understand her, she did get the message in the soothing tone of voice, though. She allowed the elder woman to touch her face and waited patiently as the examination took place. The woman must have been blind.

After the inspection was done Molly exchanged the greetings with the woman in the local tongue. It was one of the very few things she could say.

The woman clearly refused something after the greeting was done and Molly guessed they thought she wanted to buy some of the potion that was also poison for herself.

She smiled. “No, no, you don't understand.” She tried to explain. “I don't want to _buy_ some poison.” She shook her head. “I want to know if you _sold_ any to someone else.” She tried once more. “Yesterday or the day before.”

She bit her lip and tried to say the same in the broken native tongue. The girl’s face brightened up and she quickly explained to her elder what was going on.

The older woman seemed to recall something. The girl tried to explain. Molly understood the poison had been bought four days before. Now if only she could find who it was who bought it.

“Anglos?” She asked excited.

The girl nodded.

Molly felt positively giddy. “Tall?” She asked urgently.

The girl gave her a blank look.

“Megalos?” She repeated her question in the native tongue.

The girl looked at her funnily.

Molly was on a roll, though. “And his hair! Was it like mine or darker?”

The girl interrupted her. “Not men. _Lady_.”

Molly blinked.

The girl nodded firmly. “ _English_ lady.”

Molly felt like fainting. _Oh my Lord!_

She turned ready to rush out when she caught herself and remembered her manners. She turned toward them and smiled. “Efharisto.” She said. “Thank you!”

The girl smiled back and Molly rushed to meet Sherlock.

He was standing to the side, waiting impatiently. She rushed to him excited. “Sherlock! Sherlock, the poison was sold to _Mrs. Gold_.”

Sherlock beamed at her. “Well, of course it was!” He exclaimed and did a happy twirl. “Brilliant!”

He turned toward her and kissed her forehead.

Molly stopped stupefied, cheeks aflame.

Sherlock stopped before her with wide eyes.

They stood completely paralysed, eyes on each other.

A noise from the nearby alley shook them out from their spell.

Molly looked down and fidgeted.

She heard Sherlock swallow.

She tried to comprehend what has just happened when she recalled about her new discovery regarding the murder of Mrs. Carmichael.

Molly braved a chance and looked up. “But why did Mrs. Gold want to poison Mr. Carmichael?” She asked confused. “It would leave Mrs. Carmichael free to pursue her husband!”

Sherlock shook his head. “That is not the correct question.”

Molly blinked. “It’s not?”

Sherlock shook his head again and gave her a smug smile. “No, the correct one is, who and _for what reason_ succeeded in murdering Mr. Carmichael’s wife.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “So she was the intended victim?”

Sherlock nodded smugly. "Obviously.”

“But-“ Molly furrowed her brows puzzling over everything. She had a feeling Sherlock knew the exact answer but was also sure he won’t tell it to her yet.

She was correct.

They returned to the Hotel as quickly as they could. A commotion in the lobby caught their attention. The passports had been stolen as the receptionist tended to Mrs. Gold who screamed about mentis landing on her pillow. Sherlock asked if either Mrs. Gold or Mr. Carmichael were still in the hotel. They were not.

“Quick, Molly, we need to get to the harbour!” Sherlock called urging her to the hotel cars. They entered one of them and urged the driver to hurry.

“So Vivian Gold and Tony Carmichael both, then?” Molly tried once more as they drove to the local harbour.

“Hmm?” Sherlock looked back at her.

“The killers?” She asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes, Molly.” Sherlock smiled at her. He nodded. “The eternal triangle.”

Molly looked at him surprised. “You remember?”

“I remember everything you told me.” He said then coughed trying to hide his blush.

Molly looked down biting a smile.

“But not the one that you were supposed to see.” Sherlock continued in a more serious voice. Molly looked back at him. “It was only the reactions of Mrs. Gold and the jealous blusters of the Carmichael that made you think that Douglas Gold was in love with Marlene Carmichael. ”

Molly blinked. "But it seemed so real."

“Oh, yes, it was skilfully done.” Sherlock allowed with a satisfied smile. “But they were still off. You see, Vivian Gold and Tony Carmichael had already started their affair in England. She made us think it was her husband’s, Mr. Gold’s, idea to come here, but I overheard him complaining to her about choosing such a remote place. He would have been happy holidaying somewhere in England, but _she_ made them come here.”

xxx

Sherlock couldn’t help the giddy look he send Molly’s way when he said that. Her eyes were wide and full of wonder at his explanation and he felt as if he would burst with pride. She was such a gratifying listener!

“They planned to meet here and stage their crime publicly.” He continued more excited. “Carmichael inserted the poison into his own drink and passed it to his wife. _You_ said it yourself, he ordered a _pink gin_ , but he hated that stuff, he admitted so during our lunch after the trip to the monastery. Why else would he order a pink gin unless he planned on passing it onto his wife? And since it was Mr. Gold who bought it for him, all the better.”

“And the bottle?” Molly asked with an admiring smile.

Sherlock grinned at her excited. “As the poison took effect on Mrs. Carmichael a commotion happened. You came for me, Donlevy went to look for a doctor, in the chaos of it all it wasn’t a difficulty for Carmichael to pass it on to his partner in crime so she can plant it on her unsuspecting, loving husband.” Sherlock snarled a little at the end.

“'How awful.” Molly nodded saddened.

Sherlock straightened a little. “But now we must stop them before they can leave the island.”

“They are trying to escape?” Molly gasped.

“Yes, of course, they already have obtained their passports, all thanks to the little scene staged at the hotel.” Sherlock explained impatiently.

The car stopped in the local harbour and Sherlock and Molly got out quickly.

“I will check the boat from Brindisi.” Sherlock called to Molly over the roof of the car. “You ask if anyone has seen them.” He instructed.

Molly nodded resolutely and started asking around.

“Excuse me.” Sherlock heard her asking the first fisherman she saw. “Are there English people on board?” The man must have looked at her a little blankly for she asked again, this time more forcefully. “English people?”

“No, no, no, sorry.” Sherlock heard the man say. Molly started asking again.

Sherlock, himself, headed to another sailor to do his own inquiries. He was in the middle of his talk with another sailor about the ship to Brindisi, when he noticed Molly looking to the sea and waving. Sherlock came to her to see what had caught her attention.

“Lieutenant Donlevy!” She called waving some more.

The man in question was standing on a simple, sturdy fishboat. One that must have had also a motor engine, as it did not had any serious sails attached. The Lieutenant picked up a big swordfish to show it off to them.

Molly faltered but Sherlock waved at him.

Lieutenant Donlevy moved the boat to come to the dock in front of them.

“I have to keep up appearances, Holmes.” He told them as he moored at the dock. “The swordfish is five days old.” He complained. Sherlock and Molly grimaced.

Lieutenant gave them a meaningful look. “It's not the Italians I've been keeping an eye on today, though.” He showed them his binoculars. “It's the _English_.”

Sherlock and Molly looked at each other.

“Mr. Carmichael has taken to fishing.” Lieutenant Donlevy continued. “He and Mrs. Gold are heading out to the Turkish coast.”

Sherlock felt a surge of excitement like he had never before.

“Quickly, Lieutenant, move.” He called jumping onto the motorboat. “We need to catch up with them before they pass the border.”

Lieutenant bid his command while Sherlock turned to Molly and raised his arms to assist her. Molly looked down to the motorboat then into Sherlock’s face and with trusting eyes jumped, allowing him to catch her.

“Umpf.” Sherlock exclaimed at her impact, arms moving around her with ease. He felt heat creeping up from his neck to his cheeks at their close proximity. Their upper torsos were flushed against each other as they gazed into each other's faces. Sherlock noticed golden flecks in Molly’s dark, brown eyes. He was mesmerised.

Lieutenant Donlevy cleared his throat at him and gave them an amused smile.

Sherlock blushed and he and Molly untangled themselves hastily. Molly’s face was red and his was probably matching hers.

“Well, start the engine!” Sherlock barked with a command. “We need to start sailing!”

Lieutenant Donlevy saluted mockingly then gave him a smile and started the boat. The engine growled and the motorboat started gaining velocity. Wind in his hair, sea droplets on his face, Sherlock was utterly excited and invigorated.

 _Finally!_ He felt like laughing. He was a _captain_ of a ship. The man behind him, his _first mate_ , moved them toward the open sea. He heard the engine choke a little behind him but not really stopping its rumble. Their momentum rose as they sailed. Sherlock smiled sheepishly at himself, well, a Captain he was, but maybe just one of a simple _boat_. One he had _commandeered_! He was a _pirate!_ He felt the laughter bubble in his chest.

He looked to Molly who tried to find a place to sit down and he couldn’t help grinning. He even had a _bonny lass_ , too!

“When did you first realize about Mrs. Gold?” Molly called to him and Sherlock shook himself from his daydream and returned to the hard reality.

He walked to her and took the seat she left him on the narrow bench. “Her performance was without a fault, except in one instant.” He explained giving Molly a proud smile.

“Holmes! Ahead!” Lieutenant Donlevy called pointing out. The boat ahead of them was getting bigger and bigger with each passing second. Sherlock’s boat was making a good progress and would catch up with the other one way before it reaches the border. Good. He took the binoculars – it will have to do as his _spyglass_ he supposed – and looked at the boat ahead. Sure, here they were, Mrs. Gold and Mr. Carmichael.

Sherlock turned back to Molly. “The scene Mrs. Gold created about the divorce at the lunch, and then when you mentioned she was expecting her husband to demand one of her soon. Those were her mistakes.” He looked into Molly’s excited, expectant eyes. “At first, it was nothing of interest, just a useless drama, but then you asked Mr. Gold about being _Catholic_.”

Molly’s eyes grew wider in understanding. “Of course!” She nodded. “He would not divorce her, Catholics don’t believe in neither condone it.”

Sherlock smiled at her approvingly nodding. “The whole thing did not make sense, unless of course we were watching the elaborate _charade_.”

Molly smiled back in understanding.

“Tony, look! A boat!”

Sherlock and Molly looked ahead toward the boat. Mrs. Gold was waving frantically in their direction.

“Could he be armed, Sherlock?” Molly asked.

Sherlock turned pensive, he wasn’t sure.

“I don’t think so, they wouldn’t dare risk bringing the gun onto the other island.” Lieutenant Donlevy said from behind them and they looked back at him. “They are looking for refuge there, aren’t they?”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “Their method is more discreet anyway.” He said. “If anything, I can deal with the man.” He added thinking of the boxing training he took at his university the last year.

“That bloody curly, lanky punk!” They heard Mr. Carmichael swear at them.

Mrs. Gold was looking at him pleadingly. “Can't you make it go faster?”

“Faster! Faster!” Mr. Carmichael commanded the man who was sailing their boat then looked around their deck.

“Dynamite?” They heard him suggest.

“Yes, dynamite! Get the bloody dynamite.” Mrs. Gold urged.

Sherlock paled and turned to the Lieutenant. “Get the boat away fast! Quickly! To starboard!”

The Lieutenant gave him a disbelieving look but moved the boat to the right side.

Molly looked at him frantically. “What is it? What is it?” She demanded.

Sherlock looked back at her. “He's got some dynamite!” He told her grimly.

Molly’s eyes widened in horror.

“Keep away! Keep away!” Mr. Carmichael waved the dynamite at them.

Sherlock was thinking frantically about their next move when-

“Anthony Carmichael! Drop the dynamite, or we shall fire!” The Italian Police Commandant called from another boat.

“Stand off! Stand off!” Carmichael waved the dynamite at the police.

They shot.

Mr. Carmichael fell, and the dynamite exploded in the water next to Mrs. Gold and his boat.

“Oh, God.” Molly gasped. “Is he all right?”

They could see him getting up with Mrs. Gold’s help. But their boat was taking water. And at a rather rapid pace by the look of it.

“You crazy English!” The Commandant called in his heavy accented English waving his hands at them. “If you do not stop trying to kill each other, I shall put you all under arrest!”

Sherlock grinned excited. Well, he would have been even more excited if it had been him who were able to _pull out the canons_ instead of the Italians. Oh well.

He looked down at Molly.

Her shiny, brown hair were dishevelled in the wind and her eyes were glowing as she beamed back at him with the same amount of excitement.

He had never seen a more beautiful sight.

One day he’ll take Molly for another sailing adventure.

Just the two of them.

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are like a rainbow after a violent storm :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all who are familiar with nautical terms, I'm sorry, I really tried. 
> 
> Themis, referenced here, is a Greek goddess of divine order, fairness, law, natural law, and custom. She is often associated with justice.

Chapter Six

xxx

Due to the excitement of the day before, the remaining guests at the Palace Hotel enjoyed a well-deserved lie-in this morning. Mr. Gold had returned the previous evening and promptly hid in his room, avoiding everyone. Not that he could be blamed for such a behaviour.

Last evening Miss Hawkins had listened with wide eyes as Molly had recounted their adventure, starting with the visit to the town where they had looked for the poison, the meeting with the old woman, returning to the hotel, the frantic search at the harbour and the chase with the boats. Sherlock had seen as Miss Hawkins shook her head at her younger cousin’s excitement. He had also noticed the surreptitious looks she had been sending Lieutenant Donlevy’s way from time to time. Looks he had returned with longing ones of his own whenever she wasn’t looking back. Huh.

All in all, the four of them had talked well into night before they had taken their leave for bed as well. And thus here was their late brunch today.

Auntie Jane and Sherlock sat at the patio with Molly accompanying them as the later waited for her cousin. The young women planned on going to the town for some shopping for their friends and family back home.

“Poor Douglas Gold.” Molly said sadly as they saw the man in question stare into the vast ocean before them.

Molly looked back to them. “He's staying on, you know, to the end.” She said.

Auntie Jane sniffed a little disapprovingly. “Well, he should leave. I tried to tell his wife to leave, but she took no notice.” She shook her head.

Neither one knew what to say to that. Both Tony Carmichael and Vivian Gold were going to hang for their murder.

“Molly!” Miss Hawkins called waving at her cousin.

“I should go then.” Molly sighed and got up. “I’ll see you when I’m back, Sherlock?” She smiled shyly.

Sherlock nodded at her with a smile of his own. He had the best thing planned for their afternoon.

“Miss Marple.” Molly nodded at his Godmother.

Auntie Jane smiled back.

A comfortable silence followed after the young women left.

“You have a knack for this, my boy.” Auntie Jane said suddenly giving him a look.

Sherlock startled and looked back at her in question.

“Crime solving.” Auntie Jane said simply.

Sherlock blinked at her. “I do?”

Auntie Jane nodded at him. “You always did.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “I always knew it.”

Sherlock looked down thinking. He did enjoy puzzling things out. _A lot_. That’s why he took chemistry and sciences. Learning how things worked out was engaging and occupied his easily bored mind, but how long will it be before he get tired with his studies? Hadn’t the medicine side started already seem a little too tedious for his liking, and hadn’t he already learned everything that there was from his English studies?

“You should use that clever brain of your in those matters, I think.” Auntie Jane said knowingly. “It will help preventing it from rotting away.”

“Auntie Jane.” Sherlock warned but wasn’t exactly sure why.

“You have enjoyed yourself, have you not?” She asked pointedly.

He did, he truly did. Sherlock realised. The excitement, the satisfaction when everything had neatly fallen into place, when the clear picture had appeared in his mind as he had realised what had been truly going on. He _liked_ it. He liked it a lot. He could do it again. He could do it _all the time_.

“I never thought much about being a detective.” He protested weakly anyway. Could he really work for the police? He recalled the local Commandant and cringed.

“It’s not that hard,” Auntie Jane relied. “you just observe, use some common sense, or brain in your case, and come to the correct conclusion.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “You do have an exceptional observation skills, Sherlock. And you did just prove how well and quick you can deduce and come to the correct conclusion. You saved a man’s life and caught the actual killers.”

Sherlock hummed. Hadn’t he thought about this himself a couple of days ago? Looking for a way to prevent an innocent’s death and catching the real culprits? “I’ll think about it.” He allowed.

“You do. Themis needs another champion.” Auntie Jane told him with a secret smile.

Sherlock blinked at her.

Auntie Jane continued in a conversational tone. “Be quick though, she may need it sooner than later _and_ I need to let know Scotland Yard who’s going to take my consulting place with them.”

Sherlock gaped at her. “Consulting place?”

Auntie Jane grinned at him. “What did you think, young man? Over my many years I happened to stumble upon those awful things quite a few times. I managed to direct the police into proper directions, too, so now they know of me. And seek me out from time to time.”

“Auntie Jane, you are _marvellous_ ” Sherlock breathed stupefied by this new information.

Auntie Jane laughed. “I’m _really_ not, I’m a simple spinster from a small, inconspicuous, English village.” She told him with a smile. “But my health is deteriorating badly.”

“Surely not.” Sherlock protested, but he saw it with his very own eyes during this holiday. “You can solve some murders again.” He encouraged. “Since apparently you do this sort of thing in your spare time.” He teased.

Auntie Jane smiled wistfully. “I think my time has come. But, you my boy, you will be even better than I, I _know_ it. I can see it, I _saw_ it here as you solved the crime on your own.”

Sherlock couldn’t deny that the idea started to look more and more attractive to him.

“Now do you need some more preparation for the afternoon? You do want to take Molly on a short sailing cruise, don’t you?” Auntie Jane asked with an amused smile.

Sherlock only blushed and did his best to ignore his Auntie’s soft giggles.

xxx

Sherlock met Molly at the beginning of the scenic shortcut from the hotel to the harbour. He barely managed to be on time, helping Auntie Jane to her room after their lunch. He could still taste the fish-based dish he ordered, thinking it oddly appropriate as his meal of choice, when taking into consideration his plans for Molly and himself this afternoon.

“Sorry I’m late, Auntie Jane decided to take a nap in her room.” Sherlock explained as he finally caught with Molly.

Molly just smiled at him. “It’s ok.”

“Shall we?” Sherlock asked and offered her his arm. He smiled in reminiscence of the very first time he met her in that back alley in the town almost a week ago. It seemed like a lifetime. They smiled at each other both blushing slightly then started walking down.

“So where exactly are we going?” Molly asked with shining eyes.

“You will see.” Sherlock teased her with a small smile.

“That’s not fair!” Molly protested good-naturedly.

Sherlock shot her a mischievous look. “It’s a _surprise_!”

“Is it now?” Molly gave him a coy look.

“Yes.” Sherlock nodded firmly. “Now let’s enjoy these magnificent views before us.” He advised but didn’t take his eyes of her even for a moment.

Molly blushed and looked around.

Sherlock’s smile softened unconsciously.

They walked leisurely bantering back and forth and admiring the occasional flora and fauna on their way to the harbour. Sherlock felt as if he could spend all his time with her, walking beside her and talking with her. He felt those butterflies in his gut he had heard of so much at uni. Surely this churning sensation in his stomach couldn’t be anything else.

Finally, they reached the docks and Sherlock lead Molly to a fine, small, fancy boat with a sail, a helm, and all. Sherlock grinned at her.

“What is this?” Molly asked looking at the boat with wide, excited eyes.

“A boat.” Sherlock replied smugly.

“Well, I can see that!” Molly giggled at him.

She looked positively radiant.

Sherlock’s stomach did another disconcerting somersault. He gulped back this unsettling sensation and looked down sheepishly. “I’ve always fancied myself a pirate when I was a kid.” He confessed.

Molly’s smile grew. “Did you?”

Sherlock looked up at her and grinned. “Yes! Sailing on the vast oceans, fighting the ships, gathering treasures-“

“-kidnapping unsuspecting ladies?” Molly interrupted him with a smile.

“What? No!” Sherlock gaped at her. “Whatever gave you this idea?”

Molly giggled at him once more. “I read all those pirate books as a kid as well.” She grinned at him.

She couldn’t be even more perfect to him than she was in that moment. His stomach squeezed.

“So what are we going to do?” She asked blushing under his appreciative stare.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. “I thought maybe you’d like to sail with me for the afternoon?” He asked her hopefully. “I’ve got snacks and drinks and we can go around the cliff to see the island from a different perspective.”

“Oh. Oh! I’d love to.” Molly beamed at him. “Do you know how to navigate a boat?” She inquired curiously.

Sherlock shot her a mock glare. “Please, Miss Hooper, of course I do.”

Molly grinned at him in response. “Aye, Captain!”

Sherlock grinned in return and helped her board the boat then followed her himself. He showed her were the drinks and food for them were put then prepared the sail to catch the wind. The churning sensation in his stomach intensified unpleasantly.

Sherlock moved to the helm and off they went.

Unfortunately, they barely made it pass the harbour borders when Sherlock, all of a sudden, scrambled to the port side of the boat and _puked._ Then puked some more. And more.

Molly gasped and rushed to his side.

“Sherlock! Oh, God, what has happened?” She cried.

Sherlock puked once more in reply.

Molly winced and smoothed his hair as he tried to catch his breath.

“You are completely pale!” She said concerned. “Are you done now?” She peered into his face.

Sherlock grimaced pathetically.

“Here. Sit down.” Molly lead him to the bench and helped make him comfortable. “Put your head down.” She instructed.

Sherlock followed. “I don’t understand.” He mumbled weakly.

Molly brought him some water from their provisions.

Sherlock took a sip, then grimaced some more and hurried to the starboard, puking once again.

He was completely wretched.

“Maybe we should head back.” Molly told him.

“What!” Sherlock said weakly, his head still over the edge of the beat. “No…”

His stomach churned some more. He turned toward Molly and slide down the side of the boar to the deck.

Molly rushed to him and kneeled.

Sherlock wanted to protest, he wanted to get up, to sail, to show her- he had it _all_ planned. What the hell happened?

“You don’t usually get seasick, do you?” Molly asked. “You were fine yesterday when we were chasing Mr. Carmichael and Mrs. Gold.”

Sherlock glanced at her. “I have never had any issues with sailing. I don’t know what has happened.”

“Maybe you ate something bad today?” Molly asked.

Sherlock’s mind flashed to the lunch and the fish-based dish he had requested. “The lunch!” He grumbled. “That blasted dish! It must have been made from Lieutenant Donlevy’s five days old swordfish!” He scoffed.

Molly’s lips twitched and a giggle escaped.

Sherlock shot her a hurt look.

Molly tried to smooth her giggles. “Sorry. Sorry!” She said.

Sherlock grumbled but his heart fluttered at her happy face that had replaced the concerned one. Sherlock blinked, _this_ was definitely different and more butterfly-like than his previous stomach sensations.

Then his stomach squeezed once more in that familiar and definitely _unpleasant_ way and Sherlock couldn’t stop the groan escaping his lips.

“That’s it.” Molly said resolutely as she got up. “We’re heading back and you are going to bed.” She turned around as if ready to take charge before Sherlock could protest. Then she looked back at him sheepishly.

“Um, you’ll need to tell me what I should do.” She said.

Sherlock gave a weak smile at her. She was _so_ adorable. He pointed her to the little steering wheel and told her how she can turn the boat so they can return to the harbour. With his pointed comments and suggestions she did it flawlessly.

Sherlock had a terrifying thought that he wants to _marry_ this young woman before him. Behind the helm she looked like a _goddess_.

“I’m sorry about our ruined afternoon.” He told her weakly as she helped him down from the boat.

She smiled softly at him. “It’s ok, we can try another time.”

Sherlock’s heart soared. He would have kissed her but he still could taste the puke in his mouth. He will spare her.

But boy how he wished he could kiss her!

xxx

After Sherlock got down from the boat he didn’t vomit again anymore. His stomach did churn from time to time, but as time went, he started to feel also better and better. Actually, he felt well enough to join everyone for drinks during the evening the very same day.

“I thought I should leave the island before the Commandant changes his mind and starts looking more closely at us.” Lieutenant Donlevy said to Sherlock as he drank his scotch. Auntie Jane forbade Sherlock to drink any fancy stuff and ordered him a strong pot of tea. It was surprisingly soothing for his slowly settling down stomach.

“Look, if you see me at any new harbour, pretend you don't know me.” The Lieutenant continued. “Your brother may be unable to help me otherwise.”

Sherlock just nodded at him “Where are you headed, Lieutenant? Abyssinia?” He asked with a knowing smile.

The Lieutenant’s face fell. “How in the Hades did you know that?” He demanded.

Sherlock smiled smugly at him and shrugged. “Well, I just assumed you'd want to be there for the ostrich-shooting season.”

The Lieutenant just shook his head. “You may consider working for your brother, yourself, after you finish the university.”

Sherlock stiffened horrified. “Absolutely not!”

The Lieutenant grinned. “A bloody waste then!”

Sherlock sniffed then his face brightened.

Miss Hawkins and Molly were coming their way.

Miss Hawkins gave the Lieutenant an indifferent look which he returned with a painful smile of his own then excused himself heading to the billiard table in the other corner of the room.

Molly asked her cousin if she wanted another drink and went to the bar to order them some.

“Did you really want to say no to Lieutenant Donlevy’s question?” Sherlock asked Miss Hawkins conversationally.

Miss Hawkins looked at him slowly, with wide eyes, as if caught with her hand in a cookie jar. “What that’s supposed to mean?”

Sherlock took a gulp of his tea and grimaced slightly. “You two have been sneaking all around the hotel, a holiday romance, was it not?”

Miss Hawkins bristled. “I beg your pardon.”

“You may beg all you want,” Sherlock looked at her pointedly, “but he _did_ ask you to join him on the next part of his journey, did he not?”

“It’s none of your business.” Miss Hawkins warned him.

Sherlock hummed. “Maybe, but you should also know, he is the sole heir to the Cavendish fortune.”

Miss Hawkins gaped. “Not _the Cavendish?_ ”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, the very same. He’s a second cousin once removed but there are no other heirs.”

“Oh.” She said but faltered. She gave the man a longing but resigned look. “Then it’s for the best. Even more so now.”

“Is it?” Sherlock mused. “He wanted to do something with his life before the title befalls upon him, you know, so he joined the army.” He explained conversationally. “He’s a good man. He worked hard to get his ranking.”

Miss Hawkins looked back at him. “He asked me to be his companion and- and something more, but I can’t just leave Molly.”

Sherlock nodded understandably but continued his line of thought anyway. “He _will_ need to return to the society eventually.” He looked at her. “And he _will_ need a wife.” He paused. “I think he had already found himself the one he wants.”

Miss Hawkins stilled, her hands balled in her lap.

“Maybe instead of finding a husband for your cousin you shall get yourself a one?” Sherlock suggested.

Miss Hawkins shot him a look. “So _you_ can marry my cousin instead?” She shot back.

Sherlock blushed. “I’m returning to the University in the fall.” He avoided trying not to avert his eyes from her.

Miss Hawkins’ look become as unimpressed as it was possible. “Molly wants to go to one as well.” She said flatly.

“Then maybe she _should_. She’s clearly going to enjoy it and she’s going to be _brilliant_ at it.” Sherlock said simply.

Miss Hawkins looked at him closely searching his face the she hummed suddenly with an amused knowing smile.

Sherlock felt his neck warm-up and his cheeks redden all over again, but he gave her an encouraging smile of his own. “You may still catch Lieutenant Donlevy if you hurry. He won’t refuse you.” He suggested.

Miss Hawkins hesitated. “And Molly?”

“Auntie Jane and I will take her back to England with us, she won’t be alone. She is of age after all, is she not? She can go to the university if she likes and my family will take care of her.” He told her confidently.

“Janine.” Miss Hawkins said after a pause.

Sherlock looked at her surprised.

“We may get on first name basis, as you will probably be family sometime soon.” She said with a small smile on her face.

Sherlock nodded at her.

Janine’s smile widened. “Thank you. Take care of her.” She implored as she got up and turned running after Lieutenant Donlevy who has just crossed the parlour and was about to start climbing the stairs to the rooms upstairs.

“Lieutenant Donlevy! If you please!” She called.

Sherlock saw the man turn around, look cautiously hopeful at the running woman, then his face bloomed with a smile as he caught her in his arms.

Molly gaped at the scene before her than looked at Sherlock. She walked briskly toward him and sat down in the place Miss Hawkins- Janine, had left mere minute before.

“What- What did just happen?” She asked mystified. “Did you just-? What?” She peered at him suspiciously.

Sherlock shot her a mischievous glance. “I just helped you outmanouver your cousin.” He said proudly.

“What?” Molly repeated gaping at him.

“She will accompany Lieutenant Donlevy on his next journey on the behalf of his Majesty while you can return to England with Auntie Jane and me.”

Molly shook her head. “What are you talking about!”

Sherlock leaned in to her excited. “Your cousin will accompany Lieutenant Donlevy on his journey as she wishes to do, while you can start your studies back in in England in the fall. You do want to start studies, right?” He added anxiously.

“Yes, of course!” Molly nodded. “But-“

“Your cousin won’t be nagging you about marrying anymore. She’s set on getting her _own husband_.” He grinned at her.

“Lieutenant Donlevy?” Molly asked shocked.

Sherlock nodded. “They were into each other from the very beginning.”

“But- but they acted all hostile toward each other!” Molly protested.

Sherlock chuckled. “They were performing. _Far_ more badly then our killers ever did.”

Molly shot him a disapproving glance.

“Sorry.” Sherlock offered quickly. “But it’s true, and then, recently, The Lieutenant has became way more wistful while your cousin was even more hostile to him. Genuine this time. Something obviously must have happened and I deduced that-“

“Deduced?” Molly tried the word.

Sherlock looked sheepish for a moment then straightened proudly. “Deduced.” He nodded. “I decided to become a detective after the University.”

Molly blinked at him. “A detective? You want to work with the Scotland Yard?”

Sherlock scoffed. “No. Scotland Yard will want to work with _me_.” He puffed his chest. “I’m going to be a _Consulting Detective._ ”

Molly giggled. “Is that even a thing?”

Sherlock gave her a haughty look. “It’s going to _be_ from now on. I’m going to be the _only_ one in the world!”

Molly laughed then nodded. “Very well. A consulting Detective it is. And I’m going to be the very first female pathologist in England.” She nodded resolutely.

Sherlock grinned. “ _My_ pathologist.”

Molly blushed under his intense gaze.

Sherlock knew it was time. No puke taste in his mouth, not unnecessary witnesses around, this was it. He leaned in toward Molly watching her face carefully. She looked up to him, her eyes searching his. As his face neared her, he felt her gasp with realisation and her eyelids fluttered down. Sherlock noticed how her eyelashes were cushioned gently on her rosy cheeks, a couple of freckles dusted her upturned, cute nose. He felt his breath hitch and his pulse rise. This was it. _Finally_. He closed his eyes as well and let his lips land on hers. She gasped against his, and his heart did a somersault. He pressed a little more. Molly returned the pressure in kind and Sherlock’s heart soared. His other hand went to her head on his own and he felt Molly’s on his chest. He sighed against her lips and she pressed a little more deeply. 

Finally, they separated slightly. Their eyes fluttered open and their gazes met each other with wonder. Sherlock smiled and Molly returned it as well. They moved away from each other slowly, reluctantly, the secretive, knowing smile ghosting both of their lips.

“Well, I hope you will consider choosing my alma mater for your studies, then.” He told her with a hopeful smile, taking her hand in his own.

She squeezed it in return. “Maybe you can tell me more about it so I will make a well informed choice, then?”

Sherlock’s smile widened. “Gladly.”

Unbeknownst to them, Auntie Jane – the formidable Miss Marple, an accidental detective and an occasional consultant to Scotland Yard, the Godmother of one particular extraordinary young man (among all her many godchildren), the woman who was now situated in the far corner of the very same parlour, unnoticed as usual by many – only smiled at the youngsters before her. She picked another wool that she decided to wove into her current knitting work and prepared herself mentally for the interrogation Miriam Holmes will _surely_ give her after they return home accompanied by Sherlock’s not-just-a-friend.

She could not wait.

Xxx

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews bring a smile to a sour face, help me smile more! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I have to confess this fic brought me a huge amount of joy as well as lots of bursts of anxiety. Writing for Writingwife83 is like writing for your personal hero. She's such a marvellous writer herself, and I love all of her stories. I hope you liked this, dear! :)
> 
> Any feedback is greatly appreciated.


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